A Bard's Tale
by Ildera
Summary: Faced with a need to raise money to effect a rescue of Imoen, our heroes find themselves in the market for any work. Wonder where fate will take them? Plz R'n'R!
1. Part The First

Hey there! In the style of The Ultimate Choice, here is the first of my prequels! Hope you like it . . .  
  
Anywho, none of this belongs to me, not the characters the situations, not even the dialogue (!), so thppt! It's all belongs to Black isle and associates, etc, etc. Please read and review, even if it's just to say hello!  
  
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin . . .  
  
*~*~*  
  
SHADOWS OF AMN - A BARD'S TALE  
  
*~*~*  
  
Pain. Pain that seemed to fill every pore in her body. Even breathing introduced her nervous system to injuries she was certain hadn't been there the last time she was conscious. Her head was on fire, pinpricks of white hot flame lashing out at her mind. What was going on?  
  
Dark figures, dropping from the trees around them. Duran groaned, remembering how Khalid had pushed her to one side, taking a sword thrust that was meant for her. Jaheira had run to his defence, leaving Minsc to protect herself and . . . Imoen.  
  
Sudden worry filled her being. Where was her young friend? Was she in this place? Duran daren't open her eyes for fear that she would be attacked again. She had vague memories of a man, a man whose face seemed stapled on, shooting fire from his fingertips. His laughter as she had writhed in agony at his feet, his smug countenance as he told her that she had much untapped power.  
  
Anger washed through her. The Bhaal essence, of course. What else in her had the potential to be so fascinating to a sadist like her captor? As always, her long dead sire haunted her steps, throwing her and her innocent companions into situations that were no choice of her own.  
  
A door opened nearby, and Duran went still, her body relaxing limply onto the cold metal floor of her prison. Whoever it was made straight for her, opening another door, this time closer, and kneeling beside her. She could feel the warmth from the body above her.  
  
A hand latched onto her shoulder, and shook her gently, sending waves of agonising pain through her head. She was prepared to ignore the intruder, until a very familiar voice said,  
  
'Wake up, you. Wake up! Come on, we have to get out of here.'  
  
Duran's eyes flew open, and there, kneeling beside her, looking tired and frightened, was Imoen.  
  
She batted her friend's hand away, sitting up with a grimace. Imoen's face relaxed momentarily into a relieved grin, before she grasped her friend's arm again, and began trying to pull her to her feet. Duran hissed as the pain intensified, yanking her arm from Imoen's grip.  
  
'Keep . . . keep your greaves on, I'll move when I'm ready,' she complained, groaning as the searing agony subsided.  
  
'You'd better make yourself ready right quick, you goon!' Imoen exclaimed, her voice sounding uncharacteristically harsh and frightened. 'Don't you remember getting dragged here?'  
  
Duran frowned, trying to force her hazy memories that far back. The thief/mage sighed, and knelt beside her, prepared to spend a little time talking her friend through what had happened.  
  
'I guess I can't blame you for forgetting. All I remember is us getting jumped near Baldur's Gate. It was quick . . . I don't think I want to remember it all. He's been . . . doing things . . . to us. Duran, we have to get out of here!'  
  
'Alright, I'm moving,' the bard protested, dragging herself to her feet and leaning heavily against the wall. 'I ache all over, though.'  
  
Imoen was nodding.  
  
'Yeah, me too, but my head hurts the most. Yours too, by the sound of the screaming.'  
  
She shuddered, trying to block out the memory of hearing her strong friend screaming for pity and mercy as the mage who held them wove spells through her. She blinked, fixing pale brown eyes on Duran.  
  
'We have to get out of here.'  
  
Duran rolled her eyes.  
  
'Alright already,' she complained. 'I get the picture. How did you get free in the first place?'  
  
Imoen bit her lip. She should have known Duran wouldn't just up and follow her, no questions asked. That just wasn't her way. Even if she was standing on top of a volcano about to blow, Imoen was willing to bet good money that her childhood friend would hang about, asking questions.  
  
'There was fighting,' she said, glancing about. 'My cell was damaged. I don't know if I could get out again. The pain in my head is getting worse.'  
  
She grimaced, groaning in pain. Cold fingers touched her temples and she slowly relaxed as Duran rubbed away the stress, if not the actual pain.  
  
'Thanks,' she grinned sheepishly. 'It isn't like a normal pain. Duran, it's on the inside, like my bones made a little dagger, and it won't go away.'  
  
Silence. She opened her eyes to see Duran staring at her, openly incredulous as she took in this description.  
  
'Don't look at me like that, it just hurts, alright? Must have been the noise. There was a fight . . . assassins came after our captor, I think. There's people dead all over, and the fighting is still going on. I could hear it.'  
  
She fixed her friend with a no nonsense stare.  
  
'Are you going to get moving or do I leave without you?'  
  
Duran grinned suddenly, catching the younger girl off-guard with the familiar sparkle that returned to her eyes as she realised that they were on yet another adventure.  
  
'Right you are,' she agreed. 'Let's go.'  
  
Caught up in her friend's sudden good humour, Imoen allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, following Duran as she slipped out of the cell into the gallery beyond. She stepped closer to the half-elf, towering over her tiny frame as Duran took in the scene around them.  
  
'Do you know who's in those cages over there?' she asked softly.  
  
Imoen frowned. She hadn't noticed any cages on her way, but then, she'd been intent on finding Duran.  
  
'No,' she admitted, 'but there's one way to find out.'  
  
Smiling at Imoen's statement of the blatantly obvious, Duran advanced towards the cages, her pace quickening when she realised who it was.  
  
'Jaheira!'  
  
The elven druid squinted at her through the bars.  
  
'Quickly, we must get out of here before whoever did this returns. I swear, travelling with you is never dull.'  
  
The girls exchanged a glance, unspoken words passing between them. Imoen knelt quickly, fishing in her boots for her lockpick. Duran leant against the metal.  
  
'Any ideas why we're here?' she asked, not really expecting a helpful answer.  
  
Jaheira shook her head, her eyes on Imoen as the young thief fiddled with the lock.  
  
'No, I don't,' she said abruptly, and Duran knew her well enough to know not to even try and push the subject. 'We have friends to find and, in time, enemies to punish.'  
  
An image of a slightly worried elven face smiling at her from under a large helmet suddenly floated in front of Duran's eyes. Khalid.  
  
'Where is Khalid?' she asked bluntly. 'He is not with you?'  
  
Jaheira looked troubled, and Duran instantly regretted her words, trying to clamp down on the sudden feeling that she would never again see Khalid smiling at her from under his huge helmet.  
  
'I do not know where he is, and it worries me. No doubt he was taken as we were, though it seems we were all meant for different fates. You look as though you have been treated most unfavourably, and I should not like to think of Khalid receiving the same.'  
  
Imoen rocked back on her heels, looking defeated.  
  
'Jaheira, it looks like your cage is magically sealed.'  
  
The elf sighed in exasperation.  
  
'Search for the key,' she instructed, drawing a dark glare from the young thief. 'Do try to hurry. The ease of our capture suggests it would be beyond our power to resist, should the owner return sometime soon.'  
  
The two girls gave her their assurance that they would return with the key, exchanging weary glances as they walked down the line of cages.  
  
'She seems to enjoy belittling me,' Imoen muttered, provoking a snort of laughter from Duran.  
  
'Well, I always fight back, so you're the only one she can belittle without fear of retribution, Im.'  
  
'Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better.'  
  
There was a roar from the cage on their right, and both girls leapt to one side in sudden shock and fright as a tall figure threw himself at the bars.  
  
'Minsc will be free! These bonds will not hold my wrath! Butts will be liberally kicked in good measure!'  
  
Duran felt an incredulously pleased smile burst upon her face, echoed by the one she saw brightening her friend's countenance.  
  
'Minsc?'  
  
The Rasheman ranger paused in his howling, peering through the bars at the two girls before him. A grin broke across his face.  
  
'Duran! My butt-kicking friend!'  
  
He strode forward to embrace her, knocked back by the metal bars of his cage. Instantly his good humour evaporated, and he roared at the confines of his prison. Duran and Imoen exchanged an alarmed look. They'd seen Minsc Berserk before, but never truly angry with anything. It was odd, to say the least.  
  
'Can you control your anger long enough to safely leave this place?' Duran asked him cautiously, ready to throw herself out of the way should the bars suddenly break under his fury.  
  
'My anger is under complete control!' Minsc insisted. 'Complete! I will control it as I rip limb from limb, I will control it as I pound head after head, and I will control . . . NO!'  
  
Duran jumped backwards, almost falling as she stumbled into Imoen.  
  
'No control! No mercy! I will avenge . . . avenge . . . Dynaheir!'  
  
Imoen peered over Duran's shoulder, making sure to keep her friend between her and the raving ranger.  
  
'Dynaheir?' she asked. 'Is she trapped here too?'  
  
The ranger's face froze suddenly, and his eyes shone suspiciously bright.  
  
'Trapped?' he said, his voice suddenly soft with grief. 'Her spirit . . . her spirit is trapped in a cage created by my failure. I was to guard her, but she . . . she . . .'  
  
A sob escaped him, and the two girls watched in horror as he gave in to tears that wracked his strong body.  
  
'They . . . they killed her as I watched, you see? I know not who they were, but . . . I will redeem myself!'  
  
Imoen's face was stricken as she stepped forward to touch his hand through the bars of his cage.  
  
'Minsc, that is horrible! I am so sorry for you.'  
  
He squeezed her hand, releasing it when she squeaked in pain.  
  
'I won't cry for the dead!' he shouted suddenly. 'I won't! Okay, maybe a little, but I will stanch the flow of tears with righteous fury! Lullaby and goodnight, evil! Minsc will make you pay!'  
  
He drew in a deep breath, and Duran found herself on the receiving end of an imploring gaze, disconcerting from the strongest man she knew. Minsc bent down until he was on a level with the young half-elf, reaching through the bars to grasp her hand.  
  
'Will you help me? We must join together once more, and our fury will be such that bards will run their quills dry! Yes, ink will be scarce where e'er we go!'  
  
Amid Imoen's sudden giggles, Duran freed her hand from his grip, smiling up at her big friend.  
  
'Yes, Minsc, I will do what I can. Don't get yourself excited.'  
  
A smile spread over the Rasheman ranger's face as he realised that they weren't going to leave him.  
  
'I can't help it! Freedom is to be mine, and not even my permanently welded cell will deter you!'  
  
He caught the sudden despairing look passed between the two girls.  
  
'Yes, no lock at all!' he confirmed as Imoen glanced at the melted metal. 'They feared me that much, and I am proud!'  
  
Duran backed up a step or two, dragging Imoen with her.  
  
'I'm going to try something here. Be ready to run.'  
  
'Why?'  
  
Duran glanced at her, returning her attention to Minsc where he stood, his hands braced on the bars of his cage.  
  
'Okay, Minsc, but it's going to be difficult if the bars are permanently closed.'  
  
'But you will keep looking, of course!' Minsc enthused. 'You would never give up, I know this! A hero always succeeds and a hero never stops short of his goal!'  
  
Duran injected a note of false anger into her voice, hoping Minsc would realise why she was doing this. If all else failed, she could run fairly quickly, even in her current condition.  
  
'He also needs the key or the switch!' she snapped. 'I don't know where they are!'  
  
Sudden fury infused Minsc's being, and Imoen's grip on Duran tightened.  
  
'I hope you know what you're doing,' she whispered, not at all encouraged when she received the reply, 'So do I.'  
  
The ranger's face was crimson with anger, all of which was directed at Duran.  
  
'You . . . have brushed me aside with your words. You won't help . . . Boo can see it now! You do not intend to cut my chains! You only intend to yank them!'  
  
He glared with venom at the young half-elf, taking a firmer grip on the bars before him. In the cell beside him, Jaheira put her head in her hands, backing away from the furious berserker.  
  
'I will make sure you do not live long enough to abandon more friends!'  
  
He roared suddenly, and the metal beneath his hands began to bend and twist as he forced them out of his way. Duran and Imoen exchanged a look, and bolted in opposite directions, taking cover and hiding behind anything that looked like it might protect them from their enraged friend. The door to the cell crumpled beneath his berserker strength, finally falling away from him with a clatter.  
  
'MINSC AND BOO ARE FREE!' he shouted, his voice echoing through the complex. He looked around wildly, noticing Duran's boot sticking out from behind the metal door to a cell further down. He advanced on her, his eyes flashing with anger. 'Now you will . . . n . . . now . . .'  
  
His voice trailed off as he looked around him, comprehension dawning as he towered over Duran. A grin broke onto his face, and he lifted her to her feet gently.  
  
'Ooooh, you are a smart one!' he declared, as she tried to quell her shaking. 'You said what you did just to get me mad! Mad enough to break free!'  
  
He laughed, pulling her into a throttling hug.  
  
'You are as smart as Boo sometimes!'  
  
He spotted Imoen lurking nearby, and released Duran, sweeping the young thief up into his arms. As the bard gasped in huge lungfuls of air, Imoen flailed about in his hug before being replaced on her feet once again. Minsc clamped hands on their shoulders, squeezing painfully hard.  
  
'Now we can resume our travels together! There are friends to avenge and villains to smack about the face and neck!'  
  
Stopping suddenly, he peered into his jerkin with an enquiring expression.  
  
'Right, Boo?'  
  
Imoen rolled her eyes, silently laughing as Duran slapped Minsc's shoulder.  
  
'Together we shall make our enemies answer for our fallen,' the bard promised him, and immediately found herself swung up into the air and brought back down again for another crushing embrace.  
  
'Answer they will, and my sword shall be the question! We shall have fistfuls of sweet, sweet justice, and our enemies will be stains beneath our feet! What?'  
  
He paused for a moment, talking into his jerkin again.  
  
'Yes, but . . . but . . . alright.'  
  
He looked up at the girls with a smile.  
  
'Boo tells me I am raving again. I did not notice a difference, but I shall heed his words nonetheless.'  
  
A small hamster was watching Duran from the neck of Minsc's jerkin, and she had the oddest impression that it was laughing at her.  
  
'I see you still have that . . . rodent,' she said, smothering a laugh as Imoen squeaked in fright. She'd never gotten used to being around Boo. 'Dare I ask how you have kept it hidden from our captors?'  
  
Minsc waved a finger under her nose reprovingly.  
  
'Never ask questions better left to aged sages. Boo is quick and evasive, and there is ever so much of Minsc to search, there is no hope of getting us apart.'  
  
Duran couldn't control it any longer, and fell about laughing, doubling over to hold her aching stomach as Imoen backed away even further, a disgusted expression on her face.  
  
'Ewww, I . . . really don't want to think about that too much,' she said, her face twisted into a distasteful grimace.  
  
Minsc smiled at her, not understanding either girls' reaction to his hamster.  
  
'Minsc and Boo are Minsc and Boo, and we shall not be separated!' he insisted. 'Shall we go? The butts of evil await my bootprint!'  
  
'Right you are, Minsc!' Duran declared, throwing herself into the moment. 'Where e'er evil dost lay its dirty feet, we shall mop the floor with its buttocks!'  
  
The ranger gave her an odd look.  
  
'I have lost myself in your words, but Boo says you are just ducky.'  
  
Amid Duran's howls of laughter and Imoen's helpless giggles, he strode forward towards one of the doors set in the wall nearest to them.  
  
'Onward!' he ordered, and still giggling slightly, the two girls followed him, sharing highly amused grins. 


	2. Part The Second

Further inspection of the rooms around the cell area revealed a golem who couldn't tell them anything useful, a chest full of basic equipment, and the key to Jaheira's cell. Together at last, and armed for action, the four moved along the corridors, following Imoen as she searched for traps.  
  
At one point she stopped, peering into the room ahead with a look of complete and utter disbelief on her youthful face. Gripping her staff a little more tightly, Duran moved to stand beside her, and stared. It was more of a cavern than a chamber, bedecked with orange and red crystals that sang a sweet note, seeming to clear away the pain of their captor's experiments.  
  
A voice boomed across the cavern, making all four of them jump. Out of habit, Duran's hand thumped against Minsc's chest to prevent him attacking the djinni who appeared to them.  
  
'Imoen, welcome! You have escaped somewhat later than I had hoped. I am Ataqah.'  
  
Imoen glanced at her companions, looking just slightly confused.  
  
'Hi,' she managed, her brow furrowed as she tried to work out why he would want to speak to her. Her fears were assuaged when the djinni noticed Duran.  
  
'Ah, but I see whom I must talk to. No offence, Imoen, but I am curious to see how Duran will react to me.'  
  
Suddenly, Duran was in the centre of the cavern, the djinni's arm about her shoulders. She could see her friends approaching cautiously as he spoke to her.  
  
'Duran, I have questions! Be not afraid!' he declared. 'You have my welcome to my little piece of this place. I do so try to keep it more appealing than the rest.'  
  
Duran blinked, trying to mask her surprise and scepticism. A house-proud djinni?  
  
'My thanks,' she said, slipping out from under his arm. 'How is it that you know my name? What is going on here?'  
  
Ataqah smiled, waving his arms expansively.  
  
'Your name is well known among those who watch. Your life's thread is bright indeed, though in your path lies many a dark and frayed end.'  
  
'That helps,' Duran heard Imoen mutter, only to be hushed by Jaheira.  
  
'As to easing your mind and answering such questions as those that surely plague you,' Ataqah continued, looking apologetic, 'it is not my place to do so. I am sorry.'  
  
'Then of what use can you be to me?'  
  
The djinni looked affronted for a moment, before regaining his cheery smile.  
  
'Such assistance as you will get from me depends on yourself. Are you prepared to answer a question?'  
  
Duran's green eyes flashed with sudden suspicion, narrowing as she gazed on him.  
  
'To what end?' she asked, her voice hard. 'Why do you need to ask me a question?'  
  
Seeing her sudden hostility, Ataqah backed off a little, hoping to soothe her temper by giving her a straight truthful answer.  
  
'I suffer a terrible curiosity; I see paths that branch in a thousand directions, and each a thousand again, but for all I see, Duran remains a mystery.'  
  
'Oh come on,' Imoen said suddenly. 'I've known her nearly my whole life, and not even I can tell what she's going to do sometimes.'  
  
Ataqah laughed.  
  
'Ah, but you are not of those who watch, Imoen. With one answer, I will be able to see Duran as one of those threads I spoke of.'  
  
Imoen looked distinctly unimpressed, as the djinni turned back to her friend.  
  
'All I wish is a single answer,' he cajoled. 'Tip the scales this once to me and I will tip them back to you in return. Shall you answer me, or shall you strike out on your own?'  
  
Duran could see distrust in her companions' eyes, but knew that at this point she couldn't afford to pass up any opportunity to learn more of this place.  
  
'I will answer your question, if it will lead to your making sense.'  
  
Ataqah beamed at her.  
  
'Then here is my hypothetical question: You and your sibling are captured and locked in separate cells, unable to communicate. The mage responsible appears and speaks.  
  
'He explains his sadistic game: In each cell there is a magical button. If you press your button and your sibling does not, you will die but your sibling is free. If your sibling presses the button and you do not, they will die but you will go free. If neither you nor your sibling press the buttons, both of you will die. If both of you press your respective buttons, both of you will die. The mage says you have one turn of the hourglass to decide your action, then he leaves.'  
  
He watched as this sank in.  
  
'Tell me, Duran, do you press the button?'  
  
Images flashed through the young Bhaalspawn's head, images of Candlekeep, of growing up with Imoen. The thief had always been like a sister to her, and if Imoen was the hypothetical sibling, Duran knew, without having to think about it, what she would do.  
  
'I will press the button,' she said firmly.  
  
The djinni nodded reflectively.  
  
'Interesting,' he said. 'No action can be performed without consequences. Especially that which follows the noble path.'  
  
He grinned suddenly, and Duran felt her wounds heal, her strength returning with the speed of summer lightning. Glancing at her friends, she saw that they, too, had been healed. When she turned back to thank the djinni, he was gone. A whisper ran through the cavern.  
  
'Deal with this, noble one!'  
  
A great warcry erupted across from them, and the companions turned to find themselves faced with an ogre mage, busily casting offensive and defensive spells. Minsc tore across the cavern, flailing his sword about his head, and began laying into the ogre without fear of injury. Following his lead, Duran joined him, employing all the tricks that she had learnt over the last couple of years to try and defeat this powerful foe. She was vaguely aware of Imoen and Jaheira casting their own spells, and soon found herself fighting alongside a black bear, and two dogs, while the mage himself seemed to have lost the power of speech.  
  
Without his ability to speak and cast spells, he was no match for the four fighters, and soon succumbed, dying with little fuss or mess. Ataqah applauded them from his perch in an alcove above them.  
  
'Well done!' he enthused. 'It appears you can deal with the consequences of your actions. In return for this indulgence, I offer advice. Seek out Rielev. He waits for such as you. Offer him the release he craves and you shall find that the focus of your journey shall soon become apparent. Farewell!'  
  
He disappeared, leaving them to exchange weary sighs and befuddled looks.  
  
They slipped almost silently down the hallways, avoiding conflict where they could, and finishing off their enemies where it was necessary. In edging past a patrol of goblins, they backed into a room off the hallway, closing the door to wait for the stupid creatures to pass. Duran heard Imoen gasp, and whirled around to find herself in a large chamber. Around the edges and in the centre were large glass containers. Inside them floated creatures just recognisable as humans.  
  
'I . . . I know this room,' Imoen whispered, her voice thick with horror and fear. 'I've been in here . . . we both have. . . He . . . there are things in these tanks . . . They used to be humans . . .'  
  
Duran knew her friend well, and caught the hitch in her breath that meant tears were fast on their way. She made it to the young thief's side just as Imoen's knees gave way, and the two crumpled to the floor in each other's arms. Minsc made to lift them up, but Jaheira, who in some ways knew the girls as well as they knew each other, held him back, encouraging him to explore the chamber with her.  
  
'What kind of monster is this guy?' Imoen sobbed, clutching at Duran's shoulders. 'Captures us easy as pie, kills whoever he wants . . . that could have been us in those glass things.'  
  
Rocking gently, Duran stroked her friend's hair, trying to calm her.  
  
'We'll get him back, Imoen,' she promised. 'We'll make him pay for all of this.'  
  
Imoen's tears seemed to be drying up, and she sat back, still within the circle of her friend's arms.  
  
'We don't even know where we are,' she pointed out.  
  
'Minor detail,' Duran shrugged, having just realised the same thing.  
  
Imoen smiled a little through her tears, grateful for her friend's sense of humour. Then she grimaced, hands going up to her temples in pain.  
  
'My head is still doing funny things . . . He said something . . . something about potential. He said something like 'releasing power within you so it could be used, but if it means taking part in horrible things . . . I don't like this place. Can we go?'  
  
Duran glanced up at Jaheira who nodded. The hallway was clear once again. They hurried from the ghastly chamber, trying the door opposite. The handle turned, and they were confronted with another golem, and a mephit that spat colour sprays at them. Once the annoying flying thing had been dealt with, they moved closer to the golem, which lurched and grumbled,  
  
'Master? Is it you? You have given me no eyes and I cannot see you . . .'  
  
After a hurried discussion, the women pushed Minsc forward, since he was the only man in their group. They doubted the golem was stupid enough to believe that its master had suddenly become effeminate.  
  
'Uh . . .' Minsc sounded hesitant, stroking Boo for reassurance. 'Yes, it is I, your master. Have you been performing any services for me?'  
  
'I have cleaned the sewage chambers and fed your guardian. Do you wish me to open the doors to the pit and begin my duties again?'  
  
Minsc turned pleading eyes on Duran, who nodded vigorously, motioning him to reply.  
  
'I do wish it,' he said miserably. 'Open the doors and perform your duties.'  
  
Nothing happened. The golem shifted slightly, but didn't move.  
  
'You have not activated my movement functions. You must use the activation stone.'  
  
Again Minsc turned to his companions, this time completely lost for words.  
  
'You've misplaced it,' Imoen hissed, stepping aside as Jaheira added, 'Ask it if it knows where the stone is.'  
  
Blinking in confusion, Minsc returned his attention to the golem, who was waiting patiently for his orders.  
  
'I seem to have misplaced the stone. Do you know where it is, my servant?'  
  
'Rielev has the activation stone, master. It is on the table of his room. The table near his life-support jar.'  
  
Minsc grinned in relief.  
  
'Ah, of course,' he said cheerfully. 'How could I forget?'  
  
Jaheira prodded him viciously in the back, pulling him out of the door before he could add anything to his innocent comment.  
  
Now with a mission in mind, they continued along the passageways. Jaheira found a room that contained two deactivated golems, neither of which would speak a word to them. Fighting back goblins, the little group soon realised that they had walked a fair way without looking in any of the doors they passed.  
  
'Well, we can always look on our way back,' Imoen said cheerfully, dodging an arrow that ricocheted off the wall behind her.  
  
With the last of the stupid creatures dead or dying, the group turned, and found themselves in a library. Duran glanced at Imoen, and could see from the look on her face that they were both thinking of the same place.  
  
'Oh, this reminds me so much of Candlekeep,' the thief sighed. 'Dusty old tomes all over, bookcases nearly spilling . . . it's like we never left . . . But we did, didn't we. Duran, I just want to go home again. I don't care where it is, just so long as I can call it home.'  
  
Duran wrapped her arm about the other girl's shoulders.  
  
'I know, Im. I know.'  
  
In the distance they could hear the sounds of a forge, the hammering on an anvil, the hiss of white hot metal as it was plunged into cool water. Intrigued, they followed the passageway to the source of the noise, realising too late their mistake.  
  
They had found a little smithy, manned by duergar, the deep mountain dwarves known for their evil tendencies. The four prisoners found themselves on the receiving end of many hostile glares, made worse by the sight of the weapons that appeared in their hands, seemingly from nowhere.  
  
'Be alert, laddies! We've got company,' one of them said, stepping forwards to leer at Duran. 'Ho, prisoners! Ye've come to th' wrong place, I tell ye true! Ilyich and 'is boys'll stop you!'  
  
Duran sighed, her fingers flexing around her staff.  
  
'Here goes nothing,' she muttered and raised her voice. 'Would that I knew where this place was. I've no quarrel with you, duergar.'  
  
The evil dwarves laughed, the cruel sound echoing around the smithy. Ilyich roared with laughter, his beady eyes glaring in intense hatred at the half- elf.  
  
'Suffice to say, this place is your doom,' he informed her. 'By the time the master returns, you shall be dead, and we shall be rewarded. At 'em, lads! No mercy!'  
  
Duran leapt out of the way as a hail of crossbow bolt flew at them, hearing the others crash to the floor in accord with her. A bolt caught the sole of her boot as she rolled behind some barrels, seeing her companions do the same. She could hear the duergar approaching, and knew she had very little time in which to prepare herself for a battle. A noise above her made her look up, just in time to see Ilyich thrust his sword down towards her.  
  
She shifted, not able to get out of the way in time, and screamed in agony as the blade sliced down into her shoulder. In response to her scream, Minsc went Berserk, killing the duergar around him in an attempt to reach his injured friend. With Imoen and Jaheira at his side, they cut their way through the duergar, reaching Duran in time to cut down Ilyich as he prepared to finish off the bard. Duran collapsed forward, whimpering in pain as the blood flowed freely from her wound.  
  
Cursing quietly, Jaheira knelt beside her, her fingers twitching into the mystical symbols of healing that she had learnt so many years ago. As she spoke the incantation, the bleeding stopped, and the wound closed, leaving a thin white scar where the sword had cut through her pale skin. The young bard groaned, jolting out of unconsciousness violently as the memory of the pain flooded her mind. She looked around at her friends' worried faces.  
  
'Ow?' she offered, and was relieved to see genuine smile crack the fearful countenances around her. 'Come on, let's get going.'  
  
As she pushed herself to her feet, something round and hard rolled beneath her fingers. Looking down, she saw three acorns on the ground beside her. It was such an odd find that she put them in her belt pouch, feeling certain that they were of some use.  
  
By mutual agreement, they decided that there was too much risk in continuing this exploration, and that they should return to try the rooms they had passed on their way here. This turned up any number of completely empty chambers, until they hit upon one with a glass container set up against the wall.  
  
'This must be Rielev's room,' Duran murmured, slipping into the gloom to find the activation stone for the golem. As she passed the jar, a thing moved within it, pressing its face against the inside of the glass to peer at her.  
  
'Aaaa . . . who be thee? Servants of the master?'  
  
With a sickening jolt, Duran realised that this must once have been a human like those others they had encountered.  
  
'By the gods, what happened to you, man?'  
  
The creature sighed softly.  
  
'I am . . . dying . . or dead . . . I remember not which. Where is the master?'  
  
Duran leant back onto the table, hearing her friends enter the room to join her.  
  
'Who is this master that you speak of?'  
  
'He was my friend, I think . . . cast out, and one of us no longer . . . I cannot remember . . .'  
  
It paused for a moment, peering closer at Duran.  
  
'Are you to take my place?'  
  
Duran's eyes widened in disgust.  
  
'As a servant of this bastard you call master?' she asked. 'I think not. Who are you?'  
  
The creature sighed once again, this time in disappointment.  
  
'It is difficult to . . . to remember . . . I was Rielev . . . dead, I think.'  
  
Duran frowned, exchanging confused looks with her companions as she tried to make sense of this situation.  
  
'I'm not sure that I understand what is going on here. Are you living or dead?'  
  
A harsh laugh escaped its lips.  
  
'Neither, neither,' it told her. 'I am . . . between . . . the master has forgotten me . . . not killed me.'  
  
Duran stepped closer, raising a hand to touch the smooth glass.  
  
'What do you mean by forgotten? Why are you in this . . . jar?'  
  
'I was a . . . faithful hound to the master. A friend, even. I was . . . dying. Truly, you are a stranger to this place.'  
  
It shifted about in the liquid of its jar to place an appendage against Duran's, a movement that tore at her heart. Her eyes were on a level with it, and she realised that if it could stand, it would be just a little taller than she.  
  
'Eternal . . . life . . . was to be my reward for faithful service. The master has suspended me until he can cure me . . . return my youth to me . . .'  
  
'How long have you been in this . . . state?' Duran whispered, horrified at Rielev's story.  
  
'I know not . . . days . . . years . . . it is all the same and my mind cannot grasp it. All alone.'  
  
A single tear suddenly leaked from Duran's eye as she comprehended how truly helpless the creature was to help himself.  
  
'He has forgotten you, then, hasn't he . . . but if you were a faithful servant, why?'  
  
'I begin to understand,' Rielev said, gazing at the glass that separated their hands in disgust. 'The master has left my side for study of another. He seeks to awaken power . . . a study of life and death, but I cannot bear the roll of the years.'  
  
He pressed closer to the glass, as if trying to step closer to her.  
  
'He has forgotten because he does not wish to remember . . . what was taken . . . I barely remember, myself.'  
  
Duran swallowed past the lump blocking her throat.  
  
'Do you want me to give you release from this non-death?'  
  
Hope dawned on the pitiful creature's face, and it raised its voice in desperation.  
  
'Release, yes . . . Master! I . . . I no longer wish to come back! Let me slip into the oblivion that has been denied me! Please!'  
  
'Calmly, my friend. How is it that I can help?'  
  
Rielev lifted hope-filled eyes to hers, and Duran knew that no matter the cost she would help him find death.  
  
'This . . . unit that contains me is powered by cells, crystals. Take them, and I can sleep . . . die . . . die, at last. Will you take the cells?'  
  
Duran smiled gently, nodding.  
  
'I will. Have peace at last.'  
  
Rielev's faced crumpled, and she realised that he was smiling back at her.  
  
'I thank thee . . . go, and leave me to oblivion at last. Sweet sleep . . .'  
  
With gravitas beyond her twenty-two years, Duran knelt beside the jar, seeking out the crystals that would give him his greatest wish. Taking a firm grip, she yanked them out. There was a flash and crackle, and the light in the jar faded and died. Rielev was at peace. 


	3. Part The Third

They left the room quickly, all saddened by what they had witnessed within it. Duran was trying to cope with the fact that she had just killed someone in cold blood, however much he had wanted it. She had never killed anyone but in self-defence before, her heart aching with the guilt over what she had done.  
  
They went back to the sewage golem, giving the stone to Minsc and shoving him forwards to speak with the golem once more.  
  
'Here is the stone,' he announced proudly.  
  
The golem didn't move. Minsc looked crestfallen.  
  
Hiding a smile, Imoen gently took the stone from his hand, and placed it in the hole in the golem's chest. Instantly the stone creature bowed.  
  
'I bow to your will, master.'  
  
It stepped past them, and the four of them followed it, passing down passages they had already been through to Ataqah's cavern. There they followed the golem down into the pit, and found themselves face to face with an otyugh.  
  
'This is the guardian?' Jaheira laughed derisively, and threw herself into battle with the creature. It didn't stand a chance against them.  
  
Duran yawned widely, stretching her aching muscles, and realised that she was bone weary. Looking around at the others, she saw similar signs of fatigue in them.  
  
'We'll scout around a bit, and find somewhere we can rest,' she told them, seeing the grateful looks on Jaheira and Minsc's faces. Imoen, however, looked terrified.  
  
'Rest? Here?'  
  
Duran fell back to walk beside her.  
  
'Im, we have to. Who knows what else we might come up against? Or even how big this place is?'  
  
She stopped, holding her friend's shoulders and looking deep into her eyes.  
  
'Look, there'll be someone on watch all the time we're asleep. We'll have plenty of warning if we're attacked.'  
  
Imoen looked unconvinced, but bowed to the inevitable.  
  
'Okay, but I'm telling you, I won't be able to sleep here.'  
  
Jaheira returned, throwing her equipment onto the ground, and herself after it.  
  
'This is most defensible place in the area,' she said, 'and it's out of the way of those patrols. I would suggest that we sleep here.'  
  
'Minsc and Boo will take the first watch,' Minsc announced, settling himself against the wall.  
  
Duran grinned at his enthusiasm, turning back to Imoen.  
  
'See? We're well protected. I won't let anything hurt you, Im, I swear.'  
  
She lay down on the unyielding floor, her arm as her pillow, and shut her eyes, effectively shutting out the dungeon around her. Imoen stared in disbelief as her breathing slowed and her face grew peaceful in slumber. She lay beside her friend, and closed her own eyes, but was unable to shut out the sounds around her.  
  
Every distant slam of a door was their captor finding them missing, every drip of water was him coming closer, every time Jaheira sighed in her sleep, she had been killed by monsters come to return them to their cages . . . Imoen had never felt so alone in her life. Silent tears slid down her face, tears of fear and horror and loneliness. She lay there for what felt like hours, waiting for the death that she was certain was coming.  
  
A warm hand covered her own, and she jumped, her eyes snapping open to find Duran gazing gently, sympathetically at her, her green eyes luminous in the dim light. Imoen forced a smile for her friend.  
  
'I've got to hand it to you,' she said softly, 'you sure have some kind of courage to sleep in this place. I would have run screaming a dozen times over if you weren't here.'  
  
Duran shifted slightly, brushing the young thief's pinkish hair from her eyes.  
  
'I know what you mean,' she agreed, her voice gentle and comforting in the darkness. 'This place worries me, too.'  
  
Imoen's face brightened slightly as one of her fears was lifted by her friend's simple words.  
  
'Does it? Then I feel better. I figured I didn't deal with this as well as you. We're alike because of Gorion, but I prefer being in the background.'  
  
Duran smiled.  
  
'Perhaps, though I remember you not hesitating to step up front when needed.'  
  
Imoen grimaced, shrugging off the compliment.  
  
'Well, when people are in danger, sure. Winthrop taught me how to get out of trouble, but Gorion always said there are times when it's worth getting into.'  
  
Duran's expression grew sad, reflectively thoughtful.  
  
'Do you remember much about him?' she asked softly. 'My memory is still fuzzy.'  
  
Imoen could see how much it was hurting her friend, not being able to remember the most important person in her life.  
  
'He was a great mage, and supposedly a great adventurer. It's funny; we lived with him for years and Jaheira seems to know more about him.'  
  
'Nonsense, he was secretive with everyone.'  
  
Both girls jumped. They hadn't realised that Jaheira was awake and listening to them. They shared a grin as the elven druid went on.  
  
'We just had . . . mutual acquaintances.'  
  
Imoen waited, to be sure that she had finished before going on.  
  
'I guess he was a great friend of the Harpers. Even got a visit from Khelben 'Blackstaff' once.'  
  
Duran looked perplexed; either she'd never heard the name before, or more had been done to her than Imoen had thought. Nonetheless, the young thief hid her concern and elaborated for her.  
  
'Real powerful mage,' she explained. 'Talked to Gorion like an equal.'  
  
She sighed.  
  
'I wish we could go back to those days, before all this fuss and bother. Before I learned . . . well, we've seen so much. Candlekeep seems so small now.'  
  
Unshed tears sparkled in Duran's eyes, but she forced them down. She never allowed herself to cry anymore, not since . . .  
  
'There wasn't much to go back to with Gorion gone,' she murmured, tracing patterns in the dirt with a slender finger.  
  
'We still had friends there,' Imoen assured her. 'They were proud, even if they didn't show it. Winthrop said so. He always thought Gorion was too stuffy. I don't know, though.'  
  
Her face slowly froze as, unbidden, memories of their captor's experiments rose in her mind. She sat up, looking away as Duran echoed her movements, an arm about her shoulders.  
  
'We won't be able to just walk away, you know. The guy who captured us . . . he knows about you.'  
  
She turned, her eyes burning into her friend's with intense emotion.  
  
'Duran, say we won't look back. I don't care if he can 'tap the power' or access whatever avatar stuff. We've got to get away from all this death.'  
  
Duran returned her stare with one of steady resolve.  
  
'I have no intention of looking back. Our 'host' has proven his evil intent.'  
  
Imoen relaxed, a relieved smile spreading across her face.  
  
'Means a lot to hear you say that,' she grinned, but the expression died on her face as she glanced about. 'I can't stand all these shadows . . .'  
  
Duran pulled her into her arms, holding her friend tightly in the hopes that she could at least allay some of her fears just by being there. Imoen snuggled into her embrace, laying her head on her shoulder with a contented sigh. They sat together in the darkness, waiting patiently for Minsc and Jaheira to wake, so that they could continue their journey.  
  
The four of them entered a bedroom, furnished practically with little in the way of decoration. Imoen surged forwards to stop them from moving further into the chamber.  
  
'Can't you feel it?' she asked. 'The evil? The threat?'  
  
As they watched from the doorway, she prowled around the room, finding and disarming three traps what could have killed them.  
  
'Okay, you can come in now,' she told them. 'There's a portal through there, but I'm guessing we'll need a key of some sort to get through it.'  
  
As one they moved into the wooded area west of the room, an underground forest of such beauty, it was hard to believe that this was the same dungeon where they had been tortured. From the shadows stepped three dryads, their beauty matched only by the trees around them.  
  
'Protect me!'  
  
'Yes, help us!'  
  
'Free us!'  
  
Duran found herself in their midst as they clutched at her clothes in fear and desperation.  
  
'Slow down!' she protested. 'Who are you and what is going on here?'  
  
'We are his possessions.'  
  
'His servants.'  
  
'His concubines. I am Elyme.'  
  
'I am Ulene.'  
  
'I am Cania.'  
  
Elyme stepped closer, falling to her knees beside the half-elf.  
  
'Please, help us to escape!'  
  
'How can I help you?' Duran asked, a little embarrassed by their certainty that she could help them.  
  
'If you can escape, you must take our acorns to the Queen. Tell her of our plight in this creature's lair.'  
  
Duran's eyes widened, and instinctively her hand went to the belt pouch in which three acorns lay.  
  
'Acorns?'  
  
'Take them to the Fairy Queen who lives in the south end of the Windspear Hills. This will be our deliverance from this . . . this Irenicus and his dungeons!'  
  
Jaheira spoke up.  
  
'So . . . we have a name for our captor at last. Irenicus, is it?'  
  
Duran drew the acorns from her pouch and showed them to the dryads.  
  
'Are these your acorns?' she asked.  
  
The three almost throttled her in their joy.  
  
'You have done a noble thing for us. Please, take them to the Fairy Queen.'  
  
Cania suddenly looked even more excited.  
  
'We will help you escape!' she announced. 'You must use the portals to travel up to the next level of the complex. This is how Irenicus travels. They are triggered by a certain key.'  
  
Elyme took up the explanation, her eyes bright with hope.  
  
'He uses Her key. He still loves her, you see. He keeps her room just as it was, though well protected.'  
  
Ulene ran her hand across Duran's hair as she and her sisters moved back into the shadows of their trees.  
  
'May the forest always open a path for you,' she blessed them, before she, too, disappeared.  
  
Duran replaced the acorns carefully, and followed her friends along the path to where it entered a beautiful room. An alarm sounded in the distance. This must be Her room, she thought, briefly wondering how anyone as cruel as Irenicus could hold such a wonderful memory as love.  
  
'What . . . what is this place?' Imoen murmured, her tone disgusted. 'It's beautiful! Oh, there is simply no way that thus space belongs to the same person who owns those horrible glass containers.'  
  
Duran couldn't help herself. Injecting a note of irony into her voice, she leant casually against the wall and said lightly,  
  
'It is unlikely that our captor would rent out space. It must be his.'  
  
Imoen shook her head violently.  
  
'No, it can't be. Not the person I know. This . . . this bed, that table . . . I know of them. He would . . . he would speak of them while . . . while he . . .'  
  
Her voice trailed off, and when she spoke again, it was oddly emotionless. Duran was suddenly alert. It was not like Imoen to let things get to her so much.  
  
'It's for a lost love, kept in perfect condition. She despises him. This is his monument to her. He spoke of all this but . . . his voice was cold . . .'  
  
She looked up at her friend, her eyes haunted with the memory of pain and torture.  
  
'No emotion at all, not even remembered. He spoke of these things while he cut . . . he cut . . .'  
  
Her voice rose in terror and denial of what had been done to her.  
  
'. . . and the spells that wove through my brain . . . cold, ugly things!'  
  
She lashed out, and Duran caught her arms, pulling her close to contain the outpouring of emotion. Minsc, oddly diplomatic, moved away, to stand watch over the path that led to the room they were in.  
  
'He cannot hurt you now,' Duran whispered, holding her friend as close as she dared. 'You're among friends.'  
  
'It still hurts . . . his sick fingers are still in my head, doing whatever it was he started. I see blood and death . . . behind my eyes . . . Irenicus . . . This room: if he could care for anything, he would care for this room. Above the lives of all of us. It makes me sick. I feel . . . I feel . . . so much hate . . .'  
  
While Imoen sobbed in Duran's arms, Jaheira discreetly cast 'Find Traps', and was confronted with an assortment of deadly trips that criss-crossed the room. Looking up, Duran realised that they needed Imoen to find this key that they needed.  
  
'Im, sweetheart, we need your help here.'  
  
The emotional thief looked up, dragging herself to her feet and moving to disarm the traps. She rummaged in a chest, and came up with a key.  
  
'I've got it,' she said wearily, returning to their side.  
  
Minsc whistled suddenly, waving them to his side.  
  
'There are rock people coming towards us,' he informed them, and sure enough, the two golems they had dismissed as being useless were thundering up the path towards the beautiful room. Jaheira grabbed Minsc's arm and dragged him into the shadows by the door, Duran pulling Imoen to the cover of the darkness opposite. When the golems had entered the room, they broke cover, running for the portal. They could hear the golems behind them, their heavy footfalls growing closer by the second.  
  
The four adventurers leapt over the sofa in Irenicus' bedroom, stumbling into the portal room as the golems crashed through the chamber behind them. Taking a firm grip on Imoen and Jaheira, who had not let go Minsc, lest he try to fight their pursuers, Duran stepped into the rippling portal, and felt the world fall away. 


	4. Part The Fourth

Part - The Fourth  
  
The blood roared in Duran's ears as her body was dragged along by some unknown force. She was helpless, floating in space, no longer able to say whether she was alone or with friends, frightened to open her eyes and check. For one horrible moment she wondered if Imoen had dropped the key, and that this was what death was like, but then the noise and the whirling stopped, and she stumbled heavily down off the dais.  
  
She slammed into somebody, who staggered backwards under her weight and fell against the wall. Hearing the groans and thuds from behind her, she guessed the others had arrived and decided it was safe to open her eyes. She looked up, into the surprised face of a man around Minsc's age. He was holding her gently around the waist, both of them sprawled on the floor where her momentum had thrown them.  
  
'So,' he said softly, glancing up at her friends as he pulled her to her feet, 'there is sanity in all this madness. If you are not in league with the evil that dwells in this place, Yoshimo begs your assistance.'  
  
Before Duran could answer, Minsc had spoken up, the trip through the portal having not addled his brains any further than normal.  
  
'We serve no evil mages, no sir! But Boo looks on you with suspicion, little man. How is it you come to be here? Never have I seen Boo's whiskers quiver so!'  
  
Yoshimo took a step back, confronted by a bristling Rasheman ranger, and what he thought was a rat. Imoen shared a glance with Duran, and managed a weak smile at the man's reaction.  
  
'I am not sure how I came to be here . . . like you, I suspect.'  
  
'Unlikely,' Imoen muttered, wrapping her friend's arm about her shoulders to keep her upright. It seemed that Duran had taken the brunt of the portal's magic, and so was having difficulty re-adjusting to basic things, like gravity.  
  
'I have been trying to find my way out,' Yoshimo continued, unaware of their scepticism, 'but I was wounded in my attempt to do so.'  
  
Jaheira spared a glance for Duran, whose eyes were still a little out of focus.  
  
'Do you know a way out of this place?' she asked him, her tone aggressive as ever.  
  
He shook his head, confusion written on his face at her hostile behaviour. She scowled at him. There was something not right here, and every one of them could feel it. If even the hamster was uneasy with this man, they would have to get rid of him, fast.  
  
'I do not know a way to escape this place,' Yoshimo confessed, then brightened. 'Perhaps we could search for the exit together?'  
  
Jaheira looked him up and down, giving him the full benefit of her suspicion and doubt. He squirmed.  
  
'No, I do not think that it would be wise. We'll be better off navigating this place without you.'  
  
His face fell, and the druid thought she detected a hint of fear in his expression as he sighed despondently.  
  
'Then I shall survive by taking the wise path,' he said. 'Go ahead and forge the trail. I will follow your path once I have rested a bit. If you're ever in Athkatla and need some assistance, I reside at the Copper Coronet, an inn of some renown. Again I say, farewell.'  
  
He picked up his pack, and stepped through the portal. The group surged forward to stop him, but nothing happened.  
  
'But, that can't be right,' Imoen protested quietly. 'How did he get through there without a key?'  
  
'I do not know,' Jaheira said, her eyes narrowed suspiciously, 'but we have other things to concern ourselves with.'  
  
She snapped her fingers in front of Duran's nose. The bard jumped, her eyes clearing so she could glare at the druid.  
  
'What was that for?'  
  
Jaheira nodded to herself.  
  
'You're better,' she said cryptically, and strode over to the door. 'Imoen! Traps and locks, please.'  
  
The thief exchanged a look with her friend, and left her side, checking the door for traps as Minsc reached out to prevent Duran from toppling over. She gave him a grateful smile.  
  
'Thanks, Minsc.'  
  
'Boo says you stay close to me and I will protect you. He is not happy here.'  
  
Duran nodded slowly, and for lack of anything else to do, stepped closer to the ranger. He beamed down at her. The door swung open, and the world erupted.  
  
Mephits flew at them from every direction, spitting whatever magic they were capable of at the vulnerable group. Every one that was cut down was replaced by two others, summoned by mephits protected by cages.  
  
'Portals!' Jaheira shouted, going down under an onslaught of fire magic.  
  
Imoen and Duran forced their way through the flying army, hacking at the creatures within the cages. Imoen was knocked flying as four mephits banded together to protect their portals, but she was quickly back on her feet again, this time protecting Duran as she fought the portal creatures. Minsc waded through the flying things, lifting Jaheira to her feet and towering over her protectively.  
  
The last of the irritating things was disposed of, Duran and Imoen shared a grin as they moved to rejoin their friends. Jaheira turned to the door, and froze.  
  
'Kha . . . Khalid?'  
  
There, before them, on a table, was the twisted mutilated body of an elf. He had been subjected to many tortures, and now was dead, freed from the torment of their captor. Jaheira screamed suddenly, throwing herself to her knees beside the table.  
  
'Khalid! No . . . this is an illusion . . . a dream . . . a bad dream . . .'  
  
She looked around wildly, and Duran was shocked to see tears in the elven druid's eyes.  
  
'Where are the mirrors . . . the switches to pull to . . . to show where he is hidden . . . Khalid!'  
  
Her sobs filled the chamber, yet no one dared approach, knowing the violence of her temper.  
  
'Damn . . . damn you . . .'  
  
Minsc knelt suddenly, and following his lead, Duran pulled Imoen to her knees as well. Together they honoured the death of their companion.  
  
'Damn you! I will have the heart of who has done this!! I will tear their blackened heart from their . . . I will . . .'  
  
Unable to stand it any more, Duran moved to embrace her friend, steadfastly enduring the flailing fists to enfold the weeping woman into her arms. She rocked her friend gently, lost in memories of the elven warrior, who had taught her so much.  
  
She remembered the hours he had spent trying to teach her how to use a sword, training that invariably ended in laughter at her complete incompetence with the blade he'd given her. He had taught her to smile again after Gorion's death, given her reason to laugh at whatever life threw at her because nothing was as bad as it seemed. It was somehow ironic that he had spent so many months protecting her, and that her last memory was of him pushing her to one side, to save her from a sword that should have taken her life.  
  
Jaheira pushed away suddenly, her eyes red-rimmed with grief. She rose to touch the face of her beloved husband.  
  
'Sil . . .Silvanus guide the light . . .to the source . . . Take this man to what he justly deserves. By . . . nature's will, what was given is returned, what was turmoil is . . . is now peace.'  
  
She kissed his still lips, her tears falling to wash at least some of the blood from his face.  
  
'Khalid of my heart, let my love . . . my love lead the way . . .'  
  
Hesitantly, Duran touched her shoulder gently.  
  
'There may be a way to get him returned to life. Should we not try?'  
  
Jaheira turned, ready to snap at the girl for her idiocy, and found herself looking into eyes wet with tears for the man who had touched her life so deeply. She could not bring herself to shout, when the child was in as much pain as she.  
  
'He . . . Khalid . . . is dead, and has been so for some time,' she said quietly. 'Beyond a point there can be no raising, especially when the body has been . . . has been desecrated.'  
  
She stroked the girl's face, finding the echo of her grief in one so young almost as painful as Khalid's death itself.  
  
'We live in an age of miracles, and nature allows the rebirth of many that have passed beyond the veil, but there is a time when . . . when it is better to let go.'  
  
Duran swallowed past the lump in her throat.  
  
'Then we will not disturb his body further. We will honour his loss with future deeds.'  
  
Jaheira nodded, letting her friend wrap an arm about her shoulders.  
  
'That is the way of things. There will be payment for this crime, and I shall not rest until it is collected. When we are able, there will be . . .'  
  
She stopped, shaking herself and drying her eyes.  
  
'Enough. I would leave this place.'  
  
Agreeing, they followed her through the next door, leaving the sorrowful scene with heavy hearts.  
  
It was not long before they smelt the change in the air, the freshness which told them they were close to the surface, and freedom. Their pace quickened, especially when with the freshness came a breeze that cooled them gently. They burst onto a gantry and pulled up short, confronted with hooded figures dressed all in black.  
  
'Ahah!' the one exclaimed. 'I knew there that to be reinforcements down here. Couldn't be that powerful by himself, I said!'  
  
Another spoke up, near to where Duran stood.  
  
'What say we put an end to this here and now? We'll see the end of Irenicus and his little guild war before the day is through.'  
  
Duran frowned, confused.  
  
'Guild war? What are you talking about? I just want out of this dungeon.'  
  
'You can talk all you wish, but it will do you no good,' hissed a voice from the shadows behind them. 'Everyone in this place has either attacked or tried to lie their way into our confidence.'  
  
'I have no reason to lie,' Duran told them. 'I just want out of here, like I said.'  
  
'And we shall deliver you. Fall upon our blades and spells, and then you will be free.'  
  
Jaheira stepped forward, her spear ready in her hands.  
  
'You are mistaken, but I care not! Khalid will be avenged, whether you stand aside willingly or not!'  
  
She was knocked backwards as a man appeared in front of her, grinning down at her half-elven leader. He grasped Duran's throat, forcing her backwards.  
  
'You and your guild dies, no matter your words!'  
  
The ensuing fight was short and bloody. Despite the men's advantage in turning invisible, the four adventurers were desperate to see the sun, and made short work of them. Not even stopping to glance back at the bodies that littered the gantry, they moved to follow the breeze to its source.  
  
The light slowly grew brighter, and the sounds of battle filtered down through the smoke and dust to the small group as they clambered awkwardly up out of the darkness and into the welcome light of day. What they saw was destruction.  
  
The mage from Duran's waking nightmares, Irenicus, stood amidst the crumbling ruins of what once must have been a great building. Around him lay the black hooded bodies of men who had died fighting him, and beyond them, still more yet living came to join battle with this force of darkness.  
  
'You dare to attack me here?' he asked of them, his tone incredulous. 'Do you even know whom you face?'  
  
With a flick of his wrist he obliterated many of their number, his magical fire consuming them even as they crumpled in death.  
  
'You will suffer! You will all suffer!'  
  
As the last of them fell, he turned to go once more underground, and saw the four dishevelled figures standing among the ruins, weary and injured, but determined. A grim smile crossed his cold features. He addressed Duran, ignoring the others who stood with her.  
  
'So godchild, you have escaped. You are more resourceful than I had thought.'  
  
Before the bard could answer, Imoen had stepped forward, determined to protect her friend from whatever Irenicus intended to do to her. Duran had taken many such steps to protect her in former adventures. It was time she repaid her friend's bravery.  
  
'You're not going to torture us any longer,' she spat, the memory of his sick experiments, his fingers within her mind, stoking her anger.  
  
Irenicus laughed, a cold brittle sound that froze her momentarily.  
  
'Torture?' he repeated. 'Silly girl, you just don't understand what I'm doing, do you?'  
  
Imoen drew in a deep breath, preparing her spells to attack him.  
  
'I don't care what you're doing. Let us go!'  
  
His face grew hard and callous, his hands coming up to form the intricate symbols of an aggressive spell.  
  
'I won't let you leave, not when I'm so close to unlocking your power,' he told her, surprised that the frail thief/mage had such spirit left within her.  
  
'We don't want anything from you,' Imoen hissed, and released her spell.  
  
It hit him in the midriff, taking him by surprise. His own attack flew past her, catching Duran in the chest as she surged forward to aid her friend. Minsc caught the bard as she flew backwards, the force of the blow slamming him back into the crumbling wall behind them. Jaheira hurried to Imoen's side, only to be thrown sideways by an invisible hand.  
  
'Enough!' Irenicus declared. 'I will no longer listen to the babbling of ignorant children.'  
  
As he raised his hands to perform the spell that would bind the two girls, the familiar hiss of portal magic filled the air, and several cowled figures appeared around him and Imoen. One took hold of the young thief's arm.  
  
This is an unsanctioned use of magical energy.'  
  
Another came forward to grasp Irenicus.  
  
'All involved will be held. This disturbance is over.'  
  
He went stumbling backwards, as the mage delivered a crippling blow to his groin. Irenicus drew in his power, casting angry spells at each of the cowled ones.  
  
'Must I be interrupted at every turn?'  
  
The scene lit up with the flashing of magical light and fire. Minsc drew a hand over his eyes as he squinted to see Imoen amidst the battle. Beside him, Duran lay dazed, slowly stirring from her unconscious state. Boo slipped from Minsc's tunic to scurry across her waist, squeaking excitedly at his ranger.  
  
Irenicus surveyed the scene around him with barely concealed distaste.  
  
'Enough of this!' he demanded, and in accordance the magic cleared.  
  
The cowled ones lay dying or dead around him, but yet more appeared, stepping from the portals ready to do battle.  
  
'You will cease your spell-casting and come with us,' one insisted, raising his staff protectively as Irenicus turned towards him.  
  
Another stepped forward to bar the mage's path to his colleague.  
  
'Even if we fall,' he told the irate mage, 'our numbers are many. You will be overwhelmed.'  
  
Irenicus looked him up and down brutally, his gaze disapproving, to put it mildly.  
  
Against Minsc's chest, Duran stirred, her eyes fluttering open to take in the scene around them.  
  
'You are wakeful once again?' the ranger asked softly, shifting so she could sit upright.  
  
Duran nodded and yelped slightly as Boo appeared from beneath her tunic, running up Minsc's arm to his usual resting place. Across from them, Jaheira also stirred, her eyes sharp with anger and mistrust.  
  
The cowled one forced himself not to quake beneath the hostile glare.  
  
'You bore me, mageling,' Irenicus said finally. 'You may take me in, but you will take the girl as well.'  
  
Imoen started, jumping fright as two of the cowled ones moved to take her arms. Behind her, Duran struggled to her feet, staggering slightly as a wave of dizziness hit her.  
  
'What?' Imoen protested. 'No! I've done nothing wrong -'  
  
'You have been involved in illegal use of magic,' the man beside her said coldly. 'You will come with us.'  
  
Desperation sank through the young thief, and she turned her head to gaze at her friend. Duran was hurrying towards them, but too slowly, still dizzy from the blow to her chest. Imoen began to struggle, trying to buy the bard some time to reach her.  
  
'I'm not going with them!' she screamed, suddenly afraid. 'I'm not! Help me, please!'  
  
She was dragged into a portal as each of the cowled ones disappeared, along with their captives. Duran lunged forward, hoping to slip through before they closed, but landed on her face in the rubble. She rocked back on her heels, stunned.  
  
Minsc reached her first, anger clouding his vision as he surveyed the scene.  
  
'No, this cannot be!' he cried, furious that he had been done out of his revenge. 'The murderer of Dynaheir flees from righteous butt-kicking vengeance? And he takes Imoen with him, too!'  
  
He shook the young girl's shoulder, not understanding why she did not react.  
  
'Something must be done, Duran! We must find this evil wizard! All that is goodness cries out for this! Even little Boo,' he added, 'although he cannot cry out quite so loudly.'  
  
Jaheira hauled herself to her feet, having been sensible enough to wait for her body to recover before trying to walk. She could see the stunned expression on the bard's face, the unseeing incomprehension in her eyes.  
  
'I find it odd that Irenicus would leave of his own violition,' she mused, moving over to remove Minsc's hand from Duran's shoulder. 'And why take Imoen when it is Duran he is so obviously interested in? Perhaps he expects us to give chase?'  
  
She grasped Minsc's wrists almost absently, slapping his face to calm the irate ranger. He bristled for a moment before subsiding, stroking his hamster for reassurance.  
  
'We must step carefully,' she told the Rasheman, forcing him to listen to her calm words. 'We know little about him . . . who he was fighting, who took him, or even where we are. We seem to be drawn into machinations not of our own making.'  
  
'No!' Minsc protested. 'We must go quickly to save our friend, Imoen! The wizard may be leering over her evilly even now!'  
  
Jaheira fixed him with a no-nonsense stare.  
  
'And which why would we go?' she asked pointedly.  
  
Minsc opened his mouth, ready to point in the right direction. A puzzled, disappointed frown crossed his face and his expression fell. Jaheira lifted his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes.  
  
'Do not be foolish, Minsc,' she said gently, understanding his intense desire to save Imoen. 'We must know our enemies . . . and the extent of our danger, here . . . before we rush into anything.'  
  
Slowly he nodded, understanding and trusting his friend implicitly. They turned to look at Duran, who remained kneeling on the spot where her friend had been only minutes before. Jaheira knelt beside her, a gently hand on her shoulder. Duran lifted shocked eyes to the elven druid.  
  
'She's gone,' she whispered. 'They've taken her away . . .'  
  
Jaheira pushed an errant curl from the shell-shocked girl's eyes, nodding forlornly.  
  
'Yes, Duran,' she murmured, cradling the girl's shaking body in her arms. 'She's gone.' 


	5. Part The Fifth

Part The Fifth  
  
Minsc stepped closer to his female companions as they slipped between the houses of this great city. It had taken the combined efforts of Minsc, Jaheira and Boo to awaken Duran from her state of shock and sorrow, but she had quickly recovered, seeking out a friendly face among the crowd around them and asking the young woman questions about their situation.  
  
They were in Athkatla, the City of Coin, in Amn, and the cowled men who had taken Imoen from their side were the Cowled Wizards, a collection of men who had outlawed spellcasting and maintained the peace. Lady Beth had no idea where they would have taken Imoen, and still less about the identity of the mage taken with her.  
  
With a great show of kindness to the three, who were looked on with suspicion because of their outland accents and dress, Lady Beth had provided them with a map of the city, suggesting that if they had limited means, they go to the Slums, where they would be able to acquire some decent equipment for a low price. Duran had thanked her heartily, glad that she hadn't lost her ability to pinpoint the most helpful person in a crowd.  
  
So here they were, walking along a dirt track that could hardly be called a street, between musty shacks that could not even be called huts, let alone houses. Duran gazed about her, horrified. She had never really come face to face with the injustice of poverty. All around her, children and old men gathered on corners, competing for the gold of the passers by. In the alleyways, she could hear shady deals and the sounds of scuffles. Every eye turned to stare after the beautiful half-elf and her companions.  
  
Duran felt Minsc and Jaheira draw closer to her. The druid bent closer to her ear, her eyes still on the faces around her.  
  
'This place is not a friendly one,' she warned her young companion. 'Be wary of who you deal with.'  
  
Maintaining her steady pace, Duran turned her head to look at her friend.  
  
'Why?' she asked. 'What would anyone here wish from me?'  
  
Jaheira sighed, rolling her eyes in such a condescending manner, if Duran had not been accustomed to it, she would have been offended.  
  
'Perhaps not here as such,' Jaheira murmured, her eyes flicking to the dilapidated homes around them. 'But you are still a valuable commodity. There are those that know of the Children of Bhaal, and they may desire . . . services of you.'  
  
'What kind of services?'  
  
'The kind that you have proved yourself good at,' she was told. 'Fighting, solving disputes . . . but there may be other, darker errands people wish to send you on. Those are the ones you must be wary of. You will not know them from their garb or accent; you may not know them at all.'  
  
Duran laughed suddenly, one hand to her forehead to hide the huge grin that spread across her pretty face.  
  
'Aunty J, I'm a bard,' she said softly. 'I've been trained to read people, not what they're wearing. Have I ever steered you wrong?'  
  
A huge warm hand descended onto her shoulder as Minsc joined the conversation.  
  
'No!' he declared enthusiastically. 'You have never steered us away from the butts of evil that must be kicked!'  
  
Duran swallowed her laughter hurriedly, patting her big friend's hand reassuringly. Jaheira gave her a small smile.  
  
'Very well, but I feel it is my duty to warn against such things. And I have asked you not to call me that.'  
  
The bard gave her a look of wide-eyed innocence.  
  
'What, Aunty J?'  
  
The druid heaved a great sigh, picking up the pace slightly. Duran shared a cheeky grin with Minsc, before they both hurried to join their friend. As they passed beneath an overhanging walkway, someone called out to them, and Duran turned, trying to place the voice. Beside her, Jaheira was doing the same, her sharp eyes fooled by the similarities of dress and attitude among the people here.  
  
Minsc grasped them both by the shoulder, turning the two women to face a scruffy looking young man leaning against a wall only a few feet away. Grinning as they approached, obviously amused by their caution, he bowed low to Duran, straightening to tower over her again as many humans did.  
  
'Coo,' he whistled, looking her over. 'You be the one I be looking for if I not be mistaken. Duran be your name, eh?'  
  
Before Jaheira could stop her, Duran had nodded, smiling cheerily.  
  
'Yes, I am she,' she told the stranger. 'What is it that you want?'  
  
Ignoring the druid's expletive strewn muttering, the stranger nodded in approval.  
  
'Tis not what I want, but what I can be doing for ye. Ye might be wanting information about a young lass arrested by the wizards on your arrival here, aye?'  
  
Duran's face paled abruptly. This man could help her, she knew it, but somehow she also knew this information wouldn't come cheap.  
  
'You're talking about Imoen? What do you know about her?' she demanded, aware that her tone was, perhaps, not the most friendly.  
  
The stranger nodded again, this time to himself, as if squirreling away information for later use. His wide grin and placating smile were beginning to grate on Duran's nerves, and she found herself longing for an opportunity to wipe the irritating expression off his face.  
  
'Now, Imoen, aye,' he said softly. 'That be her name.'  
  
'Of course it is her name, silly man!' Minsc interrupted. 'She is our dear friend Imoen, and we will retrieve her by any means necessary, by -'  
  
He was cut off by Jaheira's elbow jabbing with expert precision into his midriff. As he doubled over, coughing and spluttering, the stranger continued.  
  
'Young lass made the misfortune of casting a spell or two in a city that frowns upon such business. Bad timin', it was.'  
  
He glanced sidelong at Duran, obviously trying to read her tight-lipped smile.  
  
'You be thinking you wants to find her, then?'  
  
Duran had had enough of his dodging around the question. She grasped his tunic in both hands, and with strength most people refused to believe such a tiny woman could have, she slammed him up against the wall. The colour drained from his face as he realised his error in angering the little woman.  
  
'Of course I want to find her!' the bard hissed, furious at his avoidance of the truth. 'What do you know?'  
  
Her dagger by now was pressing into his ribs, the stranger standing on his tip-toes to avoid being skewered on the sharp blade.  
  
'I knows very little meself, me lady,' he stammered quickly, shocked by the change in her mood, and intimidated by the two standing behind her with murder in their eyes. 'I can, however, link ye up with a group that knows. Or can be finding out.'  
  
Slowly the dagger was removed, Duran stepping back with suspicious eyes. The stranger relaxed, though not much. He glanced up at the tall ranger beside the half-elf, and found himself on the end of a curiously angry gaze. The strange thing was, it was coming from a rodent, nestled comfortably in the crook of the ranger's neck. Somewhat unnerved by this, he turned back to Duran, and the hostile druid.  
  
'This be not the best place to hold such a dialogue,' he warned them, glancing towards the guard on the corner, who was taking an unhealthy interest in their exchange. 'I be having a place that would suit far better. It be just a short walk from here.'  
  
The guard was now moving towards them, trying to be nonchalant, and failing completely.  
  
'Why don't I take you there right now?' the stranger offered. 'Unless you have some reason for not wanting to come along?'  
  
Duran looked him up and down, unable to shake the feeling that in some ways she would come to regret getting involved with this irritating fellow. Still, he had information about Imoen, and she couldn't afford to overlook a lead.  
  
'How do we know that this isn't some kind of trap?' Jaheira asked suddenly, her tone hard and unforgiving, promising pain to the man who crossed her.  
  
The stranger laughed.  
  
'I have no interest in setting up a trap,' he scoffed. 'It be more profitable to serve. I will speak no more . . . come with me, and you can decide whether to enter me house.'  
  
With that he wandered off. Duran looked helplessly at her companions.  
  
'He seems genuine enough, but there's something there I don't trust,' she confessed to them, watching as he moved further away.  
  
'He has clues to the whereabouts of Imoen!' Minsc declared. 'We shall find her and return to dust his buttocks with our heel!'  
  
Jaheira ignored their hyperactive friend, squeezing the bard's shoulder.  
  
'You must do what you think is best,' she told her young friend. 'I am with you.'  
  
Nodding, Duran sighed, and quickly followed their new-found ally. They caught up to him just in time to see his tall form duck into a slightly better crafted building along a street of stone houses. Exchanging a cautious glance with her companions, she followed, stepping into the house with no little trepidation, ready to scream blue murder should she be double-crossed.  
  
All that greeted her, however, was the stranger's approving whistle.  
  
'Coo! I see you were able to keep up with me alright, eh? I was afraid I'd lost ye there, heh . . .'  
  
His half-hearted laugh trailed off in the face of the bard's stony countenance.  
  
'Don't dawdle,' she told him, trying to ignore the fact that she sounded almost exactly like her foster father. 'I have to find Imoen and make sure she's alright.'  
  
'Aye, I'll be doing that as quick as ye blink.'  
  
It seemed he was as anxious to be out of their company as they were to be out of his.  
  
'I tell ye straight that I know a powerful group that can be helping ye. They can be finding the wizard and the young woman both, they can.'  
  
Jaheira raised an eyebrow.  
  
'We have seen no evidence of their trustworthiness, and will doubtless see none at all, if you are anything to go by.'  
  
His face hardened momentarily at the insult, and he seemed to be holding himself back. Out of his line of vision, Duran pinched her friend, warning her to keep her mouth shut.  
  
'They can be doing far better than the telling, my friend,' he continued. 'They can also effect a rescue of your lass, to boot.'  
  
A bright smile of genuine joy spread across the bard's face, and the stranger's features softened under the full onslaught of her beauty.  
  
'They can rescue Imoen?' she repeated. 'Of course I'm interested!'  
  
He smiled to see her so quickly transformed, charmed by her sudden trusting nature.  
  
'Ah, good,' he grinned, 'but you should know that it requires my friends to cross the Cowled Wizards. Not something ye be able to do on yer own.'  
  
Duran sighed; here came the bargaining.  
  
'I see,' she conceded. 'And what might this kind of help cost me?'  
  
He raised his hands in a gesture of peace, and she braced herself for the worst.  
  
'It may seem to be costly, but think of the danger in crossing the Cowled Wizards.'  
  
'How much?' she asked softly.  
  
He swallowed.  
  
'A fair price, if you think about it.'  
  
Jaheira's scimitar came whistling out of its sheath to rest against his throat. He gazed down the length of the polished blade into her dull, flat eyes.  
  
'How . . . much?' she asked, slowly and deliberately.  
  
'It be 20,000 gold pieces for their help,' he said quickly, and shut his eyes.  
  
Duran felt her jaw drop.  
  
'20,000!' Jaheira protested, the scimitar slipping to the floor. 'That's an outrageous sum!'  
  
The man skittered backwards until at least one piece of furniture was between him and the furious druid.  
  
'Outrageous, is it?' he asked. 'Tis a lot, but ye ask me friends to go against the wishes of the Cowled Wizards. I told ye it be not a thing to be done lightly.'  
  
Jaheira flung herself at the cowering man, only to run full tilt into Duran. The bard wrestled the weapons from her friend, forcing her to calm down. Her pretty face was flushed with anger at the druid's reaction.  
  
'Jaheira, stop it!' she hissed. 'I am quite capable of dealing with this myself. This is the only help we're going to get, don't you see? I know you're still hurting about Khalid, but I won't let you take out your frustration on everyone we meet, understand? I won't allow it. So shut up and calm down, and if you don't like it, leave.'  
  
Shocked, Jaheira quieted almost immediately, seeing herself in the quiet bard's outburst. She glared down into the stormy green eyes, and was met with a glare equal to her own in potential violence. Concerned, Minsc stepped forward, hoping to dissolve the tense atmosphere.  
  
'Boo asks you, little man, is there no way to lower the cost?'  
  
The man looked confused for a moment.  
  
'None,' he said finally, choosing not to ask who Boo was. 'It be 20,000 or me friends canna be helping ye.'  
  
Still locked in a tense stare, Jaheira muttered,  
  
'It is your decision, Duran. I made a promise, and to that I hold, no matter my personal feelings.'  
  
Duran nodded, sensing the sudden change in their relationship, the underlying discomfort in one another's presence. She should not have said what she did, but Jaheira had taken her hostility too far. She would not allow the druid to murder everyone they met in anger at her own inability to save the man she loved.  
  
She turned to the man cowering before Minsc.  
  
'I do not have that much . . . how am I supposed to raise such an amount?'  
  
He gave her an anxious smile, acutely aware of the hostility in the room. No doubt he was regretting ever having offered to fetch them in the first place.  
  
'I am sure ye have spent as much in the past, and will again. Surely, there be work in the city for ye? Or perhaps some of your expensive goods to sell?'  
  
Without even a glance for her companions, Duran nodded.  
  
'Very well, I will be back with the money.'  
  
The man nodded also, his relief written on his face.  
  
'Aye, I'll wait for it,' he said cheerfully. 'Brus'll be waiting outside for ye. He's me nephew, an' he'll show ye to the Copper Coronet. Ye'll find work there easy enough, ye will.'  
  
As they turned to leave, he called out to Duran.  
  
'I'd check the Five Flagons in the Bridge District, if ye be looking for bardic work. There's a playhouse downstairs.'  
  
She nodded curtly, and stepped into the street outside, ignoring his farewell. Jaheira refused to look at her, and she felt a stab of icy guilt.  
  
'Hoy!'  
  
Looking up, Duran found herself addressed by a small boy, too much alike to his uncle to be mistaken for anyone else.  
  
'You'd be the ones I's watching for, aye? Uncle Gaelan told me to give you a bit o' help to find some work.'  
  
He stepped closer, gesturing for her to lean down. She did so.  
  
'If you go to the Bridge District, there's this place called the Five Flagons. They gots some sort of play going on there. You're a bard, eh? Maybe you'd want to check it out. Do you want me to show you to the edge of the slums?'  
  
Duran smiled, seeing a helpful little boy trying to be his uncle and failing miserably.  
  
'I'd prefer it if you took me to the nearest tavern, actually.'  
  
Brus' face fell.  
  
'Okay, then . . . make sure you stay close, 'cause I don't have time to wait for ya.'  
  
They followed him swiftly through the slums to the central block of buildings, where they could just make out a sign bearing the legend 'Copper Coronet'. Brus turned to them.  
  
'Here ye be. I'm sure ye can find the rest of yer way from here, aye?'  
  
Duran flicked him a coin for his help, watching him hurry away into the crowds around them. She glanced at her friends, ignoring the openly hostile gaze from the woman who had once been as close as family. Then, without a backward glance, she stepped into the public house. 


	6. Part The Sixth

Hey there, sorry it's been so long, guys. Anyway, here's a couple of chapters to make up for the wait. Don't get used to it! *grin* As always, criticism and useful suggestions are always welcome . . . blatantly obvious statements such as 'it your story, do what you want with it' (you know who you are) are not so helpful, but if you want to leave them, it's your time! Anywho, thanks for waiting and enjoy!  
  
*~*~*  
  
Part The Sixth  
  
The inn was busy, that was quite obvious, and yet there was a sparseness to the clientele that suggested to the perceptive bard that something was amiss in the welcoming atmosphere the place tried to convey. For one thing, there were noblemen scattered about among those who actually lived and worked here in the Slums, and nowhere did those of the so-called aristocracy mix willingly with those inferior in class.  
  
Their outlandish appearance was apparently no surprise to the people within. Some turned to look them over as they passed, but paid them no mind beyond a quick inspection. One amorous elf tried to make advances towards both Duran and Jaheira, but was quickly brushed off with threats of violence from both women. After speaking with the barkeep, the bard ascertained that she had not enough money to board them all, and insisted that Jaheira and Minsc take the beds they could afford.  
  
'But where will you sleep?' Minsc asked her. 'Boo will worry for you, my friend.'  
  
Duran smiled at this mention of her friend's pet, reaching up to stroke the furry head peeking from Minsc's jerkin.  
  
'I'll be fine,' she assured them. 'I'm not that tired, anyway.'  
  
Jaheira gave her a hard stare, knowing this statement to be a lie. The young half-elf looked fit to drop, but seemed determined that her companions should rest. She had not met the druid's eyes since their argument in the street, though Jaheira knew that what she had spoken had been the truth.  
  
In truth, the bard's words had struck deeper than she would ever have intended them to. The elven druid knew that she was not coping at all well with her loss, and she knew the lengths Duran had gone to, to prevent Minsc and Imoen from irritating their friend too much. She could not forget that it had been Duran who had weathered the storm of her violent grief to hold her when the pain became too much.  
  
Jaheira sighed softly, careful to keep the regretful sound inaudible. She should not have taken her anger out on the contact, this Gaelan person who had annoyed them both so dramatically. Duran could take care of herself, perhaps better than Jaheira gave her credit for. In so many ways, the druid still looked on her as the frightened child she had encountered in the Friendly Arm so long ago. And despite all this, she was not prepared to swallow her pride and apologise for her appalling behaviour.  
  
Duran saw her friends up the stairs, still not catching Jaheira's eye, paying the barkeep for the two beds they were to keep. With a weary stretch, she sat at one of the tables, lost in her own reflections.  
  
'Father . . .'  
  
As ever, her thoughts turned to the man who had shaped her, made her who she was. Everything she had ever done since his untimely death had been in memory of her foster-father, Gorion, and even now, the pain of that horrific parting haunted her daily.  
  
'What would you have me do now, father?' she whispered, her eyes fixed on the rough table-top. 'Where do I go from here? I have lost my way . . . Imoen is gone, Jaheira hates me for interfering in her grief. I'm not sure Minsc even understands what's going on. I have a chance to regain my friend, but what a price I must pay! And who knows what other costs may be involved in gaining that sum?'  
  
A single drop of moisture rolled down her cheek, and Duran found herself obeying the old habits she had acquired in the days after Gorion's death. Swallowing, she forced herself to think of how crying would solve anything, and slowly the wish to vent her feelings disappeared, smoothing away into her most secret thoughts. Her fingers found a loose splinter, and she began to pick at it, more to keep her head from drooping than anything.  
  
Perhaps she should leave. Would that help? To leave her friends alone here, with what little money she had left, and to go and find her friend alone? Somehow, despite the bad blood that ran between them at present, Duran could not fathom setting out alone. Even if they no longer needed her, she needed them, and would remain with them regardless. In desperation, her thoughts turned to the one other person who she thought might have understood her plight, now dead by her hand.  
  
'What would you have done, Sarevok?' she muttered, careful to keep the name inaudible. Even in Amn, his treachery was known. 'Oh, I know you would have killed Jaheira for being insolent, and Minsc for just being Minsc. You probably wouldn't have let them out of the prison. And you'd be more interested in finding Irenicus for the power he could give you than you would to regain Imoen. But then, you never understood the bond between us, did you? You never knew what it was to be loved, and love in return.'  
  
Once again, the memory of that terrible night flew through her mind. The night she had found, and lost, the only person she could call family. Sarevok, the bane of the Sword Coast, who had died on her blade rather than renounce his ways and join her. It had been the last time she had cried, for a man who hated her so much, he had tried to end her existence. For her brother.  
  
A gentle hand on her shoulder made her jump, and she looked up into the barkeep's worried eyes.  
  
'Are you alright there, miss?' he asked softly.  
  
Forcing a smile for him, Duran nodded, wondering why he had chosen to interrupt her thoughts. It wasn't as if she had any more money to barter with. His smile widened slightly, and he produced a fistful of coins from his pouch.  
  
'One of our regulars has bought you a bed with your companions, miss, and a meal when you wake,' he told her.  
  
Duran felt her spirits lift suddenly. So there was some point to going on, if complete strangers would take pity on her. She was not too proud to accept charity, even from a stranger, and gladly took the offered bed, laying a hand on the rotund man's arm.  
  
'Who paid for this?'  
  
He grinned suddenly, his face lighting up in a mischievous way.  
  
'He said not to tell you, but he's standing by the fireside,' he murmured.  
  
Careful not to turn and look immediately, Duran picked up her staff and made her way to the stairs. As she mounted the steps, her eyes strayed, seemingly absently, to the fireside, where a tall figure stood half- concealed in shadow. She could feel his eyes on her, not hostile but almost protective, and found herself wondering what kind of man gives out charity to an outlander in the middle of the poorest district of the city. His act had lightened her heart, though, and she was determined to do something about the rift in her group before letting the sun go down on her.  
  
Slipping though the semi-darkness of the communal sleeping room, her sharp eyes soon pin-pointed the whereabouts of Minsc and Jaheira, though you hardly needed eyes with a snore like the ranger's to follow. Quickly removing her armour and placing it by the bed, she knelt beside Jaheira's sleeping form, reaching out to grasp the druid's hand gently. There was no sound, no movement to say that she had awoken, but Duran knew her friend too well to suppose she hadn't.  
  
She leant forwards until her lips almost touched Jaheira's ear, and whispered,  
  
'I'm sorry.'  
  
Again, there was no sign that Jaheira had heard, but Duran knew. She withdrew from her friend, almost collapsing into the bed, asleep within moments of curling up within the covers.  
  
*  
  
They rose with the dawn the next morning, a force of habit from being so long on the road, and dressed quickly. As they walked down to the tap-room once again, Jaheira stopped Duran on the landing. She looked decidedly uncomfortable.  
  
'What is it, Aunty J?'  
  
Jaheira gave her a Look, smiling reluctantly when Duran found it impossible to keep her smile at bay. The druid swiftly embraced her, holding her close for a few moments then releasing her just as swiftly. She nodded curtly to her young companion, and moved to follow Minsc down the stairs. Duran watched her for a few moments, a grin spreading across her face as she realised that her friend had just apologised to her. She ran down to join them, sufficiently surprised by the sight of breakfast when it arrived for them.  
  
'Is this from our secret benefactor as well?' she asked the barkeep.  
  
He returned her smile.  
  
'Yes, miss,' he grinned. 'Right taken with you, he is, too.'  
  
As he bustled off, Jaheira and Minsc both demanded to know what was going on, and Duran filled them in, telling them about her good fortune in catching the eye of the man who had paid for all this.  
  
'I don't understand why he would choose to bestow money on me, though, when so many others here need it,' she murmured.  
  
Minsc grinned, and the two women only just managed to put their drinks down before his hands clamped down on their shoulders.  
  
'He is a man of honour and goodness,' the ranger declared. 'Boo and Minsc would be happy to meet him!'  
  
'I'm sure you would be,' Duran assured her friend, carefully diverting his attention by refilling his cup.  
  
Suddenly a voice behind her spoke up, rich in tones, and evidently nervous to her trained ear.  
  
'Fair lady, what brings you to this cesspool of corruption?'  
  
The bard turned to find a young man in full armour standing behind them, his eyes fixed on her. Seeing his apprehension at his silent response, she smiled, biting down on a laugh when he seemed to relax under her smile, his face becoming almost boyish for a moment before he collected himself.  
  
This must be our beneficiary, she thought, her eyes taking in the details of his form and dress. He was obviously a fighter, perhaps he would join them if she approached it from the right direction. Glancing over him once more, Duran decided what it was he would want to hear.  
  
'I seek adventure and honor,' she told him simply, watching as he drew himself up to his full height, no doubt to impress them.  
  
'Chance smiles upon you, for I am an adventurer of some worth,' he announced to them, and she noted a slight hesitation before he continued, as if he knew how conceited he sounded. For some reason, that slight hesitation was endearing to her.  
  
'I am Anomen, warrior priest of Torm,' he told her, his voice almost eager now. 'What is your name?'  
  
She needed no more encouragement to answer his request, finding something in this awkward, arrogant young man to like, despite his proud words.  
  
'I am Duran,' she said, her smile widening as his eyes did. 'It is a pleasure to meet you.'  
  
He bowed to her, and she could see his confusion and surprise at her name. Surely the tales hadn't reached the ears of those in Amn? From his reaction, it would appear that they had, and once again her petite form was throwing doubt on the actions that she had supposedly committed. How galling for a man who obviously wished for glory to meet a tiny woman who had it, and didn't want it!  
  
However, he quickly overcame this minor setback, allowing a self- deprecating smile to curve his lips. Unable to stop herself, Duran found herself reflecting on how much more handsome he was when he smiled.  
  
'Perchance I have found worthy companions,' were his next words, and Duran snorted into her cup, trying to hide the laughter that welled up within her.  
  
Worthy companions? An elven druid with a bad temper, a Rasheman ranger who's had one too many knocks to the head, and a half-elven Bhaalspawn? There was no way such a party could be considered worthy of anything, except perhaps one another's company. Jaheira kicked her under the table, sending her a warning look from beneath lowered lashes.  
  
Recovering herself, her gaze returned to Anomen, who seemed blissfully unaware of her intense amusement as he continued speaking.  
  
'I seek to be knighted in the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart, and I must prove my worth first. Have you need of a strong sword, my lady?'  
  
Duran glanced at her companions, her lips twitching slightly as she suppressed the last vestiges of her sudden amusement. Minsc shared a look with his hamster, Boo, and nodded, grinning at the young priest beside them with obvious approval. Jaheira, on the other hand, looked unsure, leaving the decision up to Duran.  
  
They each saw him in a different light, yet both left the decision up to their friend. Minsc saw only the bravery, and the wish to prove himself that fairly shone from Anomen's countenance, openly approving of such attributes. Jaheira saw a child trapped within a man's body, one that would have to grow swiftly should he join them, and would perhaps need help to cope with his sudden maturity and the sights he would see. But she trusted Duran's judgement.  
  
The young half-elf gazed at Anomen, seeing past the arrogant words, and shining armour. She was a bard, and had been trained to read people. What she saw was an insecure young man trying to prove himself to the only people whose opinion he cared about. Of course, the fact that he was more than average looking didn't escape her notice either. Tall, broad- shouldered, with thick brown hair and soft brown eyes, he was quite easily the most handsome man she had ever seen. She nodded to herself.  
  
'I would be infinitely pleased to have you join me,' she said cheerily, gesturing to the seat beside her. 'Welcome!'  
  
Anomen slipped into the chair, his grin one of relief and excitement.  
  
'Excellent! Adventure and honour await us both!'  
  
Duran smiled at his unconscious repetition of her previous words. Her smile died as she realised she couldn't let him commit himself to her without first explaining the truth of what she was doing in Athkatla.  
  
'I should tell you first, perhaps, that I seek to rescue an old friend who is being held hostage by the Cowled Wizards. There may be significant risk.'  
  
Anomen looked interested, grateful that she had chosen to include him in her plans already.  
  
'Truly?' he said. 'It sounds a worthy cause to pursue. But who is this friend that you speak of?'  
  
Duran turned away from him, her eyes fixed on the table as old memories, good and bad, flooded her mind.  
  
'An old friend . . . Imoen,' she murmured. 'We grew up together at Candlekeep, and I'm not about to abandon her to these wizards.'  
  
Anomen nodded, understanding the emotion behind her words. He would do the same were his beloved sister Moira stolen away by the Cowled ones.  
  
'Ah, the rescue of a childhood companion! Come then, my new friend!'  
  
He rose, seeing that they had finished their meal, and were preparing to go.  
  
'Let us strive to find this Imoen of yours, and challenge all the dangers that bar our way!'  
  
Duran laughed into her cup at his enthusiastic tone, rising with him, and moving towards the main doors. Anomen followed her, feeling as though he had begun something vastly important.  
  
They walked out into the streets, their new companion at their side. Anomen seemed very excited, striving to contain himself as they walked at a sedate pace through the muddy alleyways. Jaheira slipped to Duran's side.  
  
'Any ideas about our destination?' she asked.  
  
Duran smiled.  
  
'I was thinking of checking out that playhouse Gaelan told us about, if I can find it, and then scouting about for some work,' she mused. 'Is that alright with you?'  
  
The three nodded. Anomen pressed forward.  
  
'Might I ask where this playhouse is, my lady?'  
  
Duran frowned, dredging through her memory for the location that had been repeated to her the day before.  
  
'Do you know, I can't remember,' she said, her tone one of wonder, since she never normally forgot anything. 'Aunty J?'  
  
Jaheira scowled at the use of her nickname, but dutifully ran through the previous day's conversations to no avail. With a sinking heart, Duran looked hopefully at Minsc. The Rasheman consulted with Boo for a moment, startling Anomen, who leapt sideways at the sight of a rodent peeking from his companion's jerkin.  
  
'Boo says he does not know, Duran,' Minsc said softly, disappointed that his friend couldn't help. 'But Minsc remembers the boy saying something about a bridge?'  
  
A grin spread across Duran's face like the sun rising over the city.  
  
'The Bridge District!' she exclaimed, embracing her large friend warmly before turning to Anomen. 'Could you show us the way to the Five Flagons, sir knight?'  
  
He smiled, obviously glad to be of some use.  
  
'Of course, my lady, though I am not worthy of the title you give me,' he added, taking his place by her side as Jaheira retreated to Minsc's company. 'I will not be worthy of the title of 'sir knight' until I am knighted in the Order.'  
  
Surprised by this serious reaction to her playful address, Duran found herself listening intently as Anomen explained the ways of the city to them, guiding the trio through the streets of his home city towards the beginning of another adventure. 


	7. Part The Seventh

Part The Seventh  
  
It never rains but it pours, Duran thought, staring dismally out at the pelting rain. She was sheltered beneath a shop-keeper's awning with several others, Anomen close beside her. A little way away, Jaheira and Minsc were sharing their own cover with a couple of young nobles, and she could see her friends becoming more and more wound up by the pair's high and mighty attitude.  
  
There was a loud splashing, and a guard skidded under the awning, shaking the water from his cloak. He glanced about at the people watching the rain, his gaze fixing on Duran and her companion.  
  
'Greetings, citizens,' he said pleasantly, stepping forward to stand beside the diminutive half-elf. 'I trust you'll be keeping your weapons by your sides. I should hate to have to run you by the garrison if anything should happen.'  
  
His eyes travelled swiftly over her appearance, appreciating the beauty she could not suppress. Duran felt Anomen stiffen in offence at the implication of the guardsman's action, and moved quickly to prevent an argument.  
  
'I'm sure there are more important things than me for you to worry about,' she said softly, her eyes flicking to the bristling priest by her side.  
  
The guard seemed to take the hint, stepping back a little way from them with a grim smile.  
  
'Without question, but I'm making it my business to warn everybody on the street tonight.'  
  
This time his gaze travelled over Anomen's armour, taking in the coat of arms on his shield.  
  
'With all your gear, you might look a rich target to the wrong person,' he said snidely.  
  
Duran leant backwards slightly, her shoulder coming into contact with her newest companion's breastplate and holding him back from the insolent guard. To her immense relief, he obeyed her gentle command and backed down, content to glare at the rude man. Behind her, she heard Minsc join the conversation, never one to walk within the lines of social etiquette.  
  
'Heroes of goodness need no warning!' he declared happily, rainwater dripping down his face. 'Where we tread, evil trembles in our wake!'  
  
Hiding a smile at the guard's surprised expression, Anomen leant down slightly to murmur,  
  
'Is he often like this?'  
  
Duran made no attempt to conceal her own amusement, replying in kind.  
  
'All the time.'  
  
Before the insolent guard could continue, another, older man slipped under the awning, obviously sensing the hostility his soldier was creating.  
  
'Soldier, this isn't your beat,' he said sternly. 'Your presence is required in the Docks.'  
  
With a smart salute, the young guard nodded gratefully.  
  
'Yes, Sergeant Aegisfield!'  
  
He turned and hurried off into the pouring rain, slipping on the muddy tracks as he retraced his steps out of sight. Sergeant Aegisfield sighed, shaking his head gently.  
  
'My apologies if he overstepped the mark, my lady,' he said, turning to Duran with a slight bow.  
  
She smiled, waving aside the un-necessary mollification.  
  
'If he did, it was not I who took offence,' she answered. 'He was warning us of some implied danger in this district, though. Could you explain what that was?'  
  
Suddenly the sergeant seemed many years older, the lines on his face growing more defined as sorrow touched his eyes.  
  
'We've had a . . . a string of killings, and I don't want any more to happen,' he muttered, his voice dull.  
  
Duran frowned, not seeing the real danger in what he said.  
  
'People die all the time,' she mused. 'This is a dangerous age we live in.'  
  
The sorrow on the guardsman's face was quickly replaced with anger as he rounded on her, suddenly furious.  
  
'Dangerous enough for people that look for trouble, but when innocents . . .'  
  
His voice trailed off, and he seemed to sag, once again looking older than his years. Duran could see that something to do with these killings had touched him deeply, scarred him with the horror of the circumstances. She could only imagine what that could be.  
  
'This is different,' Aegisfield went on. 'Murder, unlike any I've seen in years.'  
  
He gripped her hand, willing her to feel the horror as he did.  
  
'There's a disgustingly sick person out there, and I simply don't have the manpower to protect everyone. He's been killing paupers, sometimes in the alley where they sleep.'  
  
Mesmerised by the strength of his emotion, Duran heard herself ask,  
  
'Why would someone prey on the poor? What could they have to take?'  
  
'Nothing,' the sergeant spat. 'They have nothing to take. He kills them and that is all. Not only is it pointless, but he does it in as painful a way as possible. It . . . it's sick.'  
  
He swallowed convulsively, showing no signs of relinquishing his grip on the young bard's hand.  
  
'He flays them . . . alive,' he managed, and Duran felt the blood rush from her head.  
  
She swayed, grateful for Anomen's presence at her back as he reached out to hold her upright. Jaheira and Minsc also moved forward to join them, shocked that anything could affect their friend so dramatically. Aegisfield nodded, seeing in the bard's eyes the haunting shock and horror of the murders.  
  
'There has been blood all over the place,' he went on, addressing all of them. 'Little Faraji, a local urchin, found the latest victim. I hate to think of a child seeing that.'  
  
Jaheira sighed, and Duran could almost hear her druidical thought processes click into action as she pondered the threat.  
  
'The confines of the city do much to chisel at the sanity of its inhabitants, but I wonder if there is some other force at work,' she murmured, reaching out to touch her smaller friend's shoulder. 'We had best be wary.'  
  
Duran nodded slowly, stepping away from Anomen's supportive arms as Aegisfield seemed to get a grip on himself once more.  
  
'Enough of this,' he said firmly. 'I must go about my rounds. If you find any information about the murders, be sure to let me know. Don't go looking for trouble, though.'  
  
He looked deep into Duran's eyes, his gaze seeming to burn into hers.  
  
'I have enough problems with walkers and beggars,' he told them. 'Old Rampah was damn near killed and a street woman, Rose, was plain lucky. Don't be like them.'  
  
With that, he turned away, and ignoring the rain, stalked off. Jaheira bent close to Duran.  
  
'We would do well to investigate this, Duran.'  
  
Anomen nodded, obviously shocked by such activities going on in his home city. Minsc, on the other hand, was already marching off in the direction of the nearest beggar, determined to right the wrong that had been so conveniently dangled before them. When calling after him did nothing, Jaheira sighed in disgust.  
  
'Wait here, I'll bring him back,' she told the two, and drawing her cloak closer about her, slipped after the rapidly disappearing ranger.  
  
Over an hour later, the rain was still pouring in sheets from the sky. Duran and Anomen stood, huddled together, under the eaves of an old run down house. Opposite them, under the shelter of a nearby trader's stall, Minsc and Jaheira were watching the weather with identical expressions of disgust.  
  
'It doesn't look like this is going to let up anytime soon,' Duran said quietly, ignoring the drop of icy water hanging off the end of her nose.  
  
Anomen watched it as it quivered for a moment before falling onto her chin and sliding down onto her cloak.  
  
'I prithee, my lady . . .' he said awkwardly, almost losing his train of thought as Duran turned beautiful green eyes on him. 'It fills me with no small amount of wonder that you have not asked me of my journeys e'er we met. We have travelled a short time together and yet we know next to nothing of each other.'  
  
He missed the quietly amused sigh as Duran turned away, her smile hidden behind her hand as she wiped the water from her face.  
  
'Alright then . . . tell me of your journeys, if you wish.'  
  
Inordinately pleased, Anomen cast his mind back to the last battle he took part in.  
  
'There is precious little to tell, although my few adventures have been glorious indeed. The path to knighthood is a long one, however . . . hence the need for my travels. But a few of my deeds have reached the ears of the bards. Battle is commonplace enough throughout Amn, and the Order has fielded its army many times in recent years.'  
  
Duran found herself eye to eye with Jaheira, who was grimacing about Anomen's tale before it had even begun. She swallowed the laugh that rose in her throat, turning back to the young squire as he continued his tale.  
  
'Most recently, however . . . let me think . . .' Anomen was trying not to sound too eager to impress his young companion, and was fully aware that he was failing miserably. Still he was grateful for her tolerance of his arrogant behaviour. 'I was with our men when the orcs came down into the Ommlur Hills once again. In great numbers they are a force to fear . . . but individually they are no match for a warrior. I, myself, was able to fight through many of them alone and take the head of one of their foul chieftains.'  
  
Even to him it sounded far-fetched, and Anomen cursed himself inwardly for ever even attempting to embellish the tale. Duran schooled her features into an expression of awe, not willing to make him aware that she knew he was elaborating. She couldn't bring herself to believe that his lies were anything more than an attempt to impress their party.  
  
'That sounds very impressive.'  
  
She glanced across to their companions and saw Minsc talking to his hamster, Jaheira concentrating on them and not Anomen. Thankful for this reprieve from their scepticism, Duran turned back to Anomen as he tore his eyes from their adoring examination of her profile.  
  
'Aye,' he said, trying to sound casual. 'It has been a struggle to prove my worth to the Order.'  
  
His voice changed, and Duran knew suddenly that he was speaking from his heart.  
  
'I wish nothing more than to ride into battle with the crest of the Radiant Heart flying over my head.'  
  
Duran smiled to herself. She had just heard the first truly real wish her companion held, and was grateful that he had chosen to share it with her, though she feared his acceptance into the Order was further away than he thought.  
  
'But I speak too much of my own deeds. One would think me preoccupied with pride. I would not blame you, were you not interested in hearing tales of my prowess, truly.'  
  
Anomen had seen her smile, and thought she was laughing at him. He couldn't blame her. He sounded conceited and self-centred even to himself, no wonder she found him amusing. He decided to switch to her side of her stories, wanting to know if she had accomplished any of what the bards regaled the masses with.  
  
'I am interested in hearing something of yours, however, my lady.'  
  
Duran suppressed a groan. She hated to speak about herself and what she had done, steeped as her history was in blood and death.  
  
'I have been told a little of your deeds in the Sword Coast,' Anomen went on, 'albeit they do sound quite fanciful and exaggerated.'  
  
Duran latched onto that as her saving grace, but could not deny what she had done. She never lied if she could help it.  
  
'Well, most tales do grow with the telling, Anomen,' she told him. 'My story is no more exceptional than anyone else's.'  
  
He nodded, seemingly relieved by her answer. Briefly she wondered just how much of the bard's tales he had believed.  
  
'Aye, that has a ring of truth,' he said approvingly. 'I did not think that you truly stopped a war in the north on your own, skilled as you might be. Rumour brings exaggeration, I am told.'  
  
He looked down to see Duran cringing slightly as she tried to think of a way to soften this particular blow to his male pride.  
  
'Actually I did stop a war with Amn several months ago . . .'  
  
His face fell. Duran hastened to reassure him, not quite knowing why his good opinion meant so much to her.  
  
'But I didn't do it on my own, of course.'  
  
He relaxed, a relieved smile breaking onto his face.  
  
'Well, of course, you had fellow companions who aided you then as now. And together you performed deeds as great as those I hope to accomplish in your service.'  
  
As he gazed out at the rain, Duran felt her heart sink. Was that the only reason he was with her? For glory? What was glory next to all the good that she had done? It seemed that Anomen had a lot to learn about the world he so longed to be a part of.  
  
'A wondrous thing indeed,' he said softly, his tone reflective. 'Perhaps you will tell me more, Duran, as we walk . . . I would hear more of these former companions of yours and your valiant tales of the Sword Coast.'  
  
Duran forced herself to grin at his enthusiasm, gazing out at the pouring rain.  
  
'Walk to where?' she muttered. 'If you try to walk in this, you'll rust up, you big bag of hot air.'  
  
'I'm sorry?'  
  
She smiled at the young squire.  
  
'Nothing.'  
  
There was a brief commotion within the house by which they stood, and the door burst open. Three men shot from the derelict building, pushing past the two adventurers in their haste to get free of the guards who pursued them. Duran was knocked sideways into an old beggarman, minding his own business. Both of them sprawled in the mud, spluttering as they landed in the street.  
  
'Who's dat?' the old man rasped. 'Who's pokin' ol' Rampah? What you want?'  
  
Anomen leant down, hauling Duran to her feet as Minsc and Jaheira moved to help the old man from the ground.  
  
'Get orf!' he complained, wrenching his arm from their grip and shuffling back undercover. 'Aegisfield send you?'  
  
Duran glanced at her companions, wiping the mud from her face with a dirty sleeve. Jaheira frowned.  
  
'Rampah, Duran,' she said softly. 'The beggar Aegisfield mentioned.'  
  
They turned to look at the ancient beggar, huddled against the wall of the house and clutching his little bundle to his chest. He glared back with dark eyes that glittered with mistrust.  
  
'I ain't stole nothing,' he said stubbornly.  
  
Duran smiled, seeing years of abuse and deceit coming together in his suspicious countenance.  
  
'Easy, old-timer,' she said, spreading her hands in a gesture of peace. 'We just want to ask you something about the local murders.'  
  
The change in him was electric. He shot upright, his skinny limbs shaking with anger as his voice echoed around the soggy streets.  
  
'I ain't done it! Wasn't me, I swears! You ain't takin' me to no guardhouse! Walls are bad!'  
  
This last comment was too much for Duran and she gladly stepped aside for Jaheira to lean in, dissolving into silent giggles at the poor old man's ravings. Well, she reasoned, it had been a long couple of days.  
  
'We're not from the guards,' Jaheira said smoothly, her voice gentle for the first time in days.  
  
Rampah looked closely at her, and then around at her companions. Duran's smile never slipped as his hostile gaze swept over her, holding Minsc and Anomen back from moving any closer. If anyone could get the information they wanted from this crazy old man, it was Jaheira.  
  
'Not from guards?' he asked, a little pathetically.  
  
Jaheira shook her head, waiting for him to make a decision. He squinted at her for a moment, and shrugged.  
  
'Okay, then I talk to you,' he said simply. 'They treat me bad sometimes, but I just wants to sleep. What you want?'  
  
Jaheira stepped closer, smiling at his suddenly open face.  
  
'Tell me what you know of the murders here.'  
  
Rampah stared at her for a moment, and cackled softly.  
  
'Nothin',' he wheezed. 'Not a thing.'  
  
Anomen and Duran exchanged incredulous looks.  
  
'Nothing?' the priest asked. 'Not a thing?'  
  
Duran hushed him quickly, motioning for Jaheira to continue.  
  
'The guard thought you might,' the druid pressed, her frown deepening with the thought that she might have actually picked a truly crazed old man to interrogate.  
  
Rampah continued to cackle to himself, coughing as the effort grew too much.  
  
'Don't know nothin',' he told her triumphantly. 'Guards kept us away. They know all I know. That's it.'  
  
He watched as their faces fell, the chance of a lead disappearing before their eyes.  
  
'But . . .' he laughed chestily. 'But I got something they don't, I got what they don't.'  
  
He leant forward, grasping Jaheira's arm in order to whisper into her face. With tact that Duran had not known her abrasive friend had, the druid winced, wrinkling her nose, but said nothing.  
  
'They be blind,' Rampah rasped. 'But I saw it, and now it's mine.'  
  
Jaheira's left eyebrow rose in a manner all too familiar to the bard. That was the expression that told her whatever was coming, she would do as she was told.  
  
'What did you get, Rampah?' the druid asked, sounding rather too eager to Duran's trained ear. 'What did you find?'  
  
The old beggar looked her straight in the eye, and sniffed disdainfully. He leant back.  
  
'Not tellin',' he said diffidently. 'You want? You gotta buy.'  
  
Even Minsc rolled his eyes in response to this rather disappointing remark. Jaheira sighed in frustration, but refused to give up.  
  
'I found it, right near a body,' the old beggar went on. 'It's mine, so you gotta buy.'  
  
Duran hid her smile at this rather sub-standard bit of bargaining and slipped into the conversation, one hand on her money belt.  
  
'How much do you want, Rampah?' she asked.  
  
He looked her up and down.  
  
'You pay . . . one hundred gold? Yeah, one hundred.'  
  
Anomen looked ready to tear the old man's eyes out for asking such an amount, but surprisingly it was Minsc who diffused the situation.  
  
'Forgive me for saying so, wise one, but Boo is thinking if it was not yours in the first place, what right have you to sell it for so high a price?'  
  
Duran felt her jaw drop at this amazing feat of reasoning from her Rasheman friend. Glancing at her companions, she could see Jaheira's equally comical expression of utter astonishment. Minsc smiled down at the old beggar as Rampah thought this over.  
  
'Gotta have somethin' for it,' the old man muttered. 'Nothin' else to get money with . . .'  
  
Duran touched his arm gently, waiting patiently for his muttering to cease before speaking.  
  
'If I could give you something that people would give you money for, but could never take away from you, would that be enough?'  
  
Rampah's eyes narrowed even further as he peered down at the young half- elf.  
  
'What's that?' he asked suspiciously.  
  
'A song,' Duran said simply, watching as this sank in.  
  
'You a bard?' he demanded.  
  
With a grin, she nodded.  
  
'I could write you a song, and then you could sing it to people as they walk by,' she explained. 'People are more likely to give money if they think you've earned it.'  
  
He stared at her for long moments, during which the sky began to lighten and the rain to peeter off.  
  
'Alrigh',' he conceded. 'But song first . . . it's mine.'  
  
Duran nodded.  
  
'I'll come back when I've written it,' she promised, letting the old beggar slip away from them.  
  
Jaheira was staring at her, as was Anomen, both incredulous at her assumption that she could write something for a beggar as easily as she thought.  
  
'Are you sure you know what you are doing, my lady?' Anomen asked, his tone dubious.  
  
Duran grinned impishly up at him.  
  
'Of course I am,' she assured him, patting his hand gently. 'Now, the rain's letting up, where do we go for the inn?'  
  
Spurred into action by this sudden need for his local knowledge, Anomen let the business drop, stepping out into the road with Minsc at his side. Jaheira hung back to walk beside her young friend, concerned about her sudden confidence in her ability to write.  
  
'Are you absolutely certain you can do this, Duran?' she cautioned, her voice inaudible to all but Duran.  
  
The half-elven bard rolled her eyes in exasperation.  
  
'Of course, Aunty J, don't you trust me?'  
  
She laughed at Jaheira's sceptical expression.  
  
'I've had a melody line going around my head since I clapped eyes on him,' she confessed, watching as her friend relaxed. 'All I need to do is add words and teach it to him. Simple!'  
  
Jaheira held her gaze for a long time before finally sighing and acceding the simplicity of what the bard had chosen to do. They hurried to catch up with the men, who were stood waiting for them beneath a sign that bore the legend 'The Five Flagons'. Exchanging smiles with her companions, Duran ducked into the inn, ready to welcome whatever work they could offer her. 


	8. This Author Is An Idiot Official

Okay, huge apologies to all you guys who are waiting for me to pull my finger out and actually have my characters DO something for once . . . I've gone and deleted the game I was getting dialogue from. (GRRR!)  
  
This has scuppered the original plan just slightly, but I assure you, I am working hard on returning to where I was in the story as fast as possible. As it is I have a few chapters worth of dialogue on a pad - somewhere - so the writing shouldn't stop completely. (here's hoping!).  
  
Huge thanks to everyone who suggested quests and such. Just to let you know, I'm not sure about Edwin being part of my party, but he will definitely make an appearance at some point, since you all have such a thing for him.  
  
Once again, I am SO SORRY for this minor catastrophe but I'm trying really hard to put things right, okay? Don't hate me, please? (bats eyes unconvincingly)  
  
Thanks for reading, and I hope you don't get too bored before I get back on track!  
  
Luv y'all,  
  
(a severely contrite) Ildera 


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